


Gatti's memoirs

by Mickaelle



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Gen, Series Based
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-06-16 17:25:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15442122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickaelle/pseuds/Mickaelle
Summary: After Miguel dies, Gatti begins to write his memoirs.The goal is mainly to follow the setting up of the Dragonslayers and some of their adventures. There is also the personal reflections of Gatti on his commandant, his fellows and the rest of the world. I try not to contradict the original story.It's a bit like different short stories: there is a logical continuation but some chapters or group of chapters are almost independent.





	1. Accident

**Author's Note:**

> Various topics will be broached, more or less closely, including "adult themes". Recurrent: violence and war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the opening chapter, I'm not very glad with it but I had to start somewhere.

My name is Gatti. No need for family name here, anyway I don’t care about that name. It would remind me of my past, which I decided to forget. So I am Gatti the Dragon Slayer, under commandant Dilandau’s orders.  
  
The reason I write this diary is still unclear to me. Maybe it would be of some use for the person who will have to take care of commandant Dilandau in the case the Dragon Slayers would be dissolved. Let’s be clear: we are at war, and after having lost one of my most reliable fellows I start to think that our loyalty to commandant Dilandau will not be sufficient to make it through. I believe that general Folken is the most likely to understand my superior and to make good use of this narrative. Even if I doubt his intentions and his interest in him, he has shown enough tolerance and patience toward his subordinate for me to hope I can count with him. And I expect he could learn other facets of commandant Dilandau inside.  
  
Maybe I write simply not to forget what I experienced within the Dragon Slayers squadron. Because this part of my life contains, at this day, the best things I ever lived. A bunch of damned fellows to the boot of the craziest demon I ever met, that’s the life I would like to live for a little longer. But now nothing will ever be the same again.

  


To begin my narrative, I have to relate an incident which took place a few weeks after we boarded the floating fortress The Vione to fight at the service of general Folken, the strategist of Zaibach. Our life there was only punctuated by the trainings, the meals, and the nights. And if we sometimes landed to get fresh supplies, we were mainly moving between the dormitory, the refectory and the training area.  
  
An evening, it happened that neither commandant Dilandau nor Shesta came to train with us, for the cause which follows. As Shesta told me later, he was leaving our quarters to join us when he heard quick steps behind him and the voice of commandant Dilandau, strangely wheezing, calling his name.  
  
‘Commandant Dilandau?’ Shesta said, surprised by the unusual tone of our master’s voice.  
  
Turning to him he noticed that his pupils were dilated and that flames were burning in the depths of his eyes. Moreover, the commandant seemed to be warm, for he was slightly sweating and had a short breath.  
  
‘Commandant Dilandau, are you alright?’ Shesta asked, concerned by the expression of his face.  
  
‘Shesta! Stay here my little one!’ commandant Dilandau ordered with the same wheezed, stifled voice.  
  
Coming straight at him, he violently knocked Shesta down and let himself fall on his body.  
  
When he got up a moment later, a dreadful smile running on his face, he didn’t say a word, and abandoned the distraught boy in his misery.

  


***

  


At night, as we had all joined the dormitory for the night, Shesta reappeared.  
  
‘Shesta! What is this face of yours? You look like you have seen the Death!’ Miguel exclaimed, jesting as always.  
  
I turned around to know what was about. At the same time as the others I noted the torn clothes of Shesta and his dishevelled hair around his very pale face –indeed like the one of a moribund.  
  
‘Damn it Shesta! You had fight with a tiger?’ Miguel asked, quizzical.  
  
The boy looked at him without seeing him.  
  
‘What tiger?’ he said in a distant voice, before taking a few steps toward the wall.  
  
‘God! What has commandant Dilandau done?’ I murmured.  
  
The commandant’s name briefly lit the eyes of our comrade, but he remained silent.  
  
‘Uh? What do you mean Gatti?’ Miguel questioned.  
  
He made his glance run from me to Shesta, as he followed my thoughts.  
  
‘Hmm! That is a tough one which our dear commandant did today, isn’t it?’  
  
Nobody answered and Dalet who used to sleep above Shesta in the bunk beds managed to make him go to sleep. Before going to bed myself I took Miguel apart.  
  
‘What happened today could be very bad, do you agree?’  
  
‘Please, don’t be such a mother with Shesta’ he said annoyed.  
  
‘I’m not concerned only about Shesta, if commandant Dilandau break one of his men it could have awful consequences for him too. And his gesture shows that he is in a peculiar bad state.’  
  
‘You mean more than usually?’  
  
I was about to reprove him for being so casual but I felt that, for once, he was serious.  
  
‘I don’t understand why he did this, maybe it’s because it’s been quite a long time we didn’t fight?’ I asked.  
  
‘I don’t think so… Or more accurately I think that the lack of occupation have put his irritation at its height and meanwhile could have somehow developed his human needs. And I’m pretty sure he himself does not know the reason he acted like this.’  
  
‘I can hardly imagine that he had thought about what he was going to do…’  
  
‘I know but it is possible that he is dealing with puberty and that he was hoping for some sort of joy.’  
  
‘Are you intending to tell me he has tried to… be happy?’  
  
‘Don’t over interpret what I say. Anyway what can we do? I agree that Shesta could be easily broken but it’s definitively not our business.’  
  
‘We have to prevent it from happening again.’  
  
‘Hey, hey, are you planning to talk to commandant Dilandau?’  
  
‘I have to.’  
  
‘You are crazy, what positive could result? You want to finish making him a degenerated fool?’  
  
‘Hmm! You believe you understand him better than I do because you have known him just a day longer?’  
  
‘And this is true! Did I ever tell you how we met?’  
  
He hadn’t, and I heard his story that night, so I’m going to relate here the circumstances of their meeting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading that far! From my point of view the story really starts to get interesting from chapter 5.  
> Sorry if you didn't like the sexual insinuation, there won't be a lot of it in this fic.  
> (About what happened between Chesta and Dilandau, there was obviously a violation of Chesta's intimacy but you're free to believe that it went below the belt or not.)  
> I illustrated this chapter: you can find the picture on DeviantArt under the name GM01-Words From The Hereafter (my username is Mick-aelle, tagged Escaflowne).  
> Here the link to the folder where I'll put all the illustrations for this fic: https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/gallery/66919397/Gatti-s-memoirs  
> There will be quite a few flashbacks but the story should be comprehensible.


	2. Toruan's soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's again a short chapter (is it easier to read?)  
> I chose that Gatti mainly calls Dilandau "commandant Dilandau", (like in French), maybe it's a cumbersome wording but I think it's like Gatti too stick to protocol and rigour.

It occurred the day Dilandau Albatou was named commandant. Zaibach Empire was at war with a country called Toruan –which doesn’t exist anymore, having become a province of Zaibach.

Dilandau Albatou piloted a rudimentary melef in which he managed to kill an enemy general of the highest rank. He stepped near his victim, in a half destructed backyard. While he was getting out of his machine a young soldier suddenly stood in front of him, sword raised. They roughly fought for a few minutes then Dilandau Albatou defeated the guy, sending his sword down a little further.

‘Damn brat!’ Miguel spat, ‘You’re pretty strong!’

‘Brat? You too are kind of young.

‘I don’t know my age. What is yours?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘Then I must be fifteen or sixteen… I’m obviously older than you!’

‘For what I care… But I recognize,’ Dilandau Albatou added, smiling, ‘you have skills for sword handling!’

As he was heading toward the dead general, Miguel pounced to catch his weapon and again stood against the youngster.

‘What are you intending to do?’ Dilandau Albatou asked, turning his head, ‘your superior is dead, the rest of the army is about to be defeated… You have no reason to fight anymore.’

‘I have never had a reason to fight! When I was able to walk, I was put a sword in hands and led to war.’

‘Funny, but now you should escape before getting killed or taken prisoner.’

‘What is he doing?’ Miguel wondered, watching the boy raising his blade above the corpse.

A few seconds later, Dilandau Albatou left the ruins, the head of the general in his hand.

 

This is the end of their first meeting, but before resuming the thread of this narrative I will report how Miguel entered the Dragon Slayers squadron. About the reason why commandant Dilandau didn’t kill Miguel I can only issue the hypothesis that he was already planning to enlist valuable men under his orders.

 

The morning Dalet and I have been appointed to the Dragon Slayer squad, we were flattered and confused by such an honour and were awkwardly trying to demonstrate our gratitude.

‘There's no need for platitudes. Just show me results...’ interrupted commandant Dilandau, ‘I will see how devoted you are to me straightaway.’

We followed him in the basement of the building which was used as a jail. At the entrance of the underground we were stopped by the guardian.

‘Dil… Lord Dilandau’ he stuttered.

He had obviously had the intention of forbid the access to us but the new rank of the commandant didn’t allow him to do so.

‘Why are you coming for?’ he asked instead.

‘What a stupid question! I come to visit a prisoner.’

‘Then I shall escort you.’

We walked in the wide dark corridor, with prison cells along on each side. The walls were made of brown stones and some torches were lighting the tall grids of the dungeons. We stopped in front of a jail where a young man was shut in. He was sitting on a bench, facing the bars, though he was looking at the ground, his elbows leaned on thighs. His posture made me think he was waiting for us.

‘It’s you again, brat?’ he said lifting his head.

He had brown hair and dark blue eyes where some irreverence, a slight cruelty and a bit of irony were mixed. I judged he was the kind who shows off.

‘Your name is Miguel right?’ commandant Dilandau asked with an authoritarian voice. ‘What do you say about joining my squadron?’

‘That is impossible!’ the guard interfered, ‘he’s a former soldier from Toruan, general Adelphos will never accept…’

‘Gatti! Dalet!’

Well, it was time to show we didn’t fear to brave the whole hierarchy for him, and I myself didn’t reflect much about the consequences. My body moved before my thought, and while Dalet was threatening the guardian with his sword I knocked him out.

‘I don’t need your pity’ Miguel answered with a shrug.

‘I have no mercy on you,’ commandant Dilandau said with a sardonic smile, ‘but I don’t want this talent of yours to be wasted. And if you don’t enter at my service you will be sent in a labour camp as a slave.’

‘So what?’ he retorted with insolence, ‘I will escape.’

‘Hmm? What for would you escape?’

The pawky face suddenly became serious and expressed –a very short time– some suffering. Then he had a joyless laugh.

‘Yeah, you’re right. I’ll join you’ he said with a cruel smile.

‘But commandant Dilandau,’ I could not help but interfere, ‘How could we trust him?’

Without my expecting it, the commandant slapped me so hard that I fell down on the floor.

‘I know what I have to do!’ he roared, ‘I don’t need the opinion of a ranker!’

This was the first time I was slapped, but it was as if it had always been like that: me, arguing to protect him from his madness, and him, rejecting any reasonable thought with all the strength of his arm.

‘I beg your pardon commandant Dilandau,’ I said, bending and telling myself I shall keep an eye on that guy.

Then I had to free Miguel. I don’t know how the incident was dealt by the hierarchy; I guess Folken spoke in favour of commandant Dilandau because it was quickly settled without waves. I can say without fearing getting ahead of myself that the main cause which pushed Miguel to pledge allegiance was that he found the commandant crazier than himself.

***

‘He he he!’ Miguel laughed low, ‘I had forgotten you had the honour to be the first getting slapped in the squad!’ his face darkened a little ‘He used my despair to his own purposes but the truth is that what he offered me was the best I could possibly hope for at that time: a place to be, some fights to win and weapons to stay alive.’

‘I agree, commandant Dilandau and you have some sort of mutual understanding I don’t have.’ I answered, ‘But you don’t know how he chose Shesta.’

I hesitated to continue, fearing to betray the boy. However I needed Miguel’s advices and I had learnt to trust him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I probably got away from Miguel's original character but I like him this way and it keeps going on in the next chapter...  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Some sentences are from "Thought of the Jeture" because when I wrote this chapter I wanted to be faithful to the story as much as possible.  
> The illustration of this chapter is on DeviantArt -> GM02


	3. Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shesta's turn! Finally a chapter I've really enjoyed to write!

It was a few days after Miguel joined us. Commandant Dilandau, Dalet and I were coming back to the headquarters after a visit to general Adelphos at a battlefield near the frontiers of Zaibach.

On horseback, I was galloping behind the commandant, followed by Dalet. The sun was setting but I knew we would not stop over at the village we were distinguishing in front of us in the glowing horizon. Commandant Dilandau didn’t hide his disgust and contempt against the peasants and their way of life, neither did Dalet. And I had to agree with them when I reached the gates, seeing and smelling the misery all around, the poverty and the insalubrity.

On the village square there was a virulent crowd gathered round a scaffold where a young man was standing, the hands tied up in the back, next to a noose and a hangman. 

‘It looks like this guy is going to be hanged.’ Dalet said.

‘He seems quite young though.’ I commented.

The scene must have looked kind of pleasant to our commandant for he led his horse toward the ferocious villagers.

‘Hey you!’ he shouted at the nearest louts, ‘What has this man done?’

‘He is a stealer, it has been a whole year that he sneaks around the fields to grab some food, he takes away the eggs, even the hens sometimes… And we couldn’t manage to catch him. We know he’s a vagrant, a dirty stray dog from Toruan!’

‘Toruan no longer exists’ Dalet pointed out.

‘You are going to hang this boy for some yams and those chickens whose he wrung the neck?’ I exclaimed, without being able to hide my scorn. ‘Peasants are such vain people…’ I mumbled to myself.

‘He is a real demon!’ the man argued, ‘It took almost twenty men to bring him under control, they are those.’ he added, pointing at men nearby the execution platform. They were among the most vindictive.

We took a look at those distorted faces, with bruises, broken noses and black eyes. Some had an arm in a sling or crutches. The boy had nicely contended with them so I took an interest in him. He was faintly trying to escape the massive hand the executioner kept tightly on his shoulder, although he looked quite resigned. His eyes were full of the fear of his imminent death and of the savage screams of the crowd surrounding him, waving rage fists. He himself had slight contusions, but didn’t seem to be wounded other way.

‘He’s a very sly devil,’ the man resumed, ‘he avoided all the traps we set for him, he used to hide in the forest…’

‘That’s enough,’ interrupted commandant Dilandau as a delighted smile was appearing on his face. ‘I take him with me!’

‘What? You really want this lad in your squadron?’ I shrieked, ‘How could he possibly become a soldier?’

‘He is only a marauder!’ Dalet added.

We both got slapped but he didn’t answer to us.

‘Did you hear me?’ he bawled at the peasants, ‘Release that man!’

Anger ran over the men who had heard him, propagating his intention and the wrath which followed to all the band of raptors not ready to let their prey escape. Commandant Dilandau drew his sword with a contemptuous laugh; waving his blade in wide circles he dispersed the churlish farmers like poultry.

‘Get out of my way! You miserable scoundrels!’ he yelled, clearing us a path to the scaffold, ‘This man is henceforth the property of Zaibach army!’

I don’t know what he looked like at that time for I was behind him, but I presume that in the eyes of Shesta, braving the whole village anger, bathed in the red incandescence of the evening light, he must appeared quite magnificent.

‘Gatti! Take that boy, give him a sword and a horse then catch up with us.’ he ordered, before he and Dalet hastened and disappeared in the darkness.

And I did so. I made the kid climb down from the platform, then gave him a sword and put him on a horse. The farmers were still gathered round us but they were only insulting us and threatening us with their raised fists. The boy was still a little panicky, yet he followed me to the village exit.

We walked a bit, just to make sure he was able to stand on saddle. When I decided to quicken our pace, we came across an ambush laid by the spiteful villagers. Few of them were intending to molest me but they roughly made the stealer tumbled down, longing for revenge.

‘Come on! Draw your sword and fight!’ I encouraged him.

But he let his sword drop out and was engulfed by the human tide.

‘Damned hicks! Go away!’ I snarled charging at the heap. ‘Go ahead, defend yourself!’ I yelled at the boy.

And he indeed struggled, very well I’d say but there were too many of them.

‘Pick up your sword’ I enjoined him.

As he had jumped toward the blade and had tightened his hands on the handle I caught him by the shirt and threw him on his horse. I put the horses at gallop to shake our pursuers off.

‘Thank you,’ the boy said after we slowed down.

‘You owe your salvation only to commandant Dilandau.’ I answered, ‘But he won’t keep his promise if he sees how you handle the sword he gave you.’

‘I’m sorry, I won’t let it drop again.’ he assured confusedly.

The more I looked at that lad, the less I thought he had any chance to become a soldier. He had blond hair, gentle water-like green eyes, and pale round chubby cheeks that made him look like a poppet. In addition he hadn’t showed a bit of aggressiveness during the brawl in spite of his strength. Of course he was strong, but it was the strength of a working man, used to hard jobs –he had thin scars on the arms which proved he had worked in the fields. He hadn’t the energy neither will to be a real fighter.

‘How did you turn into a thief?’ I asked, somewhat scornful.

As he lowered his head shamefully I felt a little guilty having shown such disdain toward his troubles.

‘I had no other resources.’ he explained, ‘Before, I was a farmer but my village was burnt down by Zaibach’s armies. I had to immigrate to this region in order to find work. But here people don’t want strangers, particularly if they are coming from former enemy countries. I needed to eat, so…’

He was talking serenely, without complaining, but I could tell, by his look that he was suffering from this disgraceful way of life.

‘Well, now it’s up to you to start a new life.’ I said, trying to sound cheerful.

***

The next day, commandant Dilandau came in the afternoon to watch his two new recruits. I had asked Miguel and Shesta to fight together to observe them since I didn’t know their sword skills. Miguel was doing well but he couldn't fight very nicely because Shesta didn't respond enough. The commandant looked at them for a while, standing next to me, frowning more and more.

‘What the name of the blond boy?’ he asked me.

‘Shesta’.

‘Age?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘What do you think of him?’

‘I don’t see how he could become a soldier, he barely hold his sword and he is too soft. And I still don’t understand why you brought him here; maybe you should get him a job within the staff…’

I took again a rough smack in the face.

‘Are you questioning my judgement?’ he said with a threatening tone, ‘Miguel! Shesta!’ he raised his voice at them, ‘you two are going to have a duel and I’ll take the winner in my squad.’

‘But…’

‘I have to fight that baby doll?’ Miguel got upset.

‘Don’t argue! Fight!’

Miguel went back to fight, way more aggressive than before, but at his surprise Shesta countered his attack with the same fierceness. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a smirk growing on commandant Dilandau’s face, and at the back of the room, Dalet stopped training manipulate his guymelef to watch the fighting.

Yet, Shesta hadn’t much skill at sword but he was using all his body with an impressive agility. Miguel had firstly roared with pleasure, happy to have a worthy adversary, but this feeling quickly turned into irritation. Hitting harder and harder, he made Shesta lose his grip over the handle of his sword. As he was displaying a triumphal smile, and to my amazement, Shesta caught his sword in a flash, with his other hand, and disarmed his opponent. He lifted his head toward commandant Dilandau, keeping his blade near Miguel’s neck.

‘Didn’t I say it was a death match?’ commandant Dilandau asked sneakily.

‘No you didn’t, sir,’ Shesta answered naively.

‘Shut up and kill him!’ he barked.

‘I’m truly sorry.’ the boy said to Miguel, slowly raising his sword above him, with a very grave face.

But that crafty guy was already leaping aside, picking up his weapon, determined to fight for his life.

‘They are both good warriors,’ I said to the commandant while the combat resumed with renewed vigour, ‘why would you want to lose one of them?’

He shot an annoyed glance at me, but then had a shrewd smile.

‘I don’t need men who aren’t ready to kill for me’, he answered, cruelly, ‘but don’t worry, I won’t let them kill each other.’

I don’t know if Miguel had already guessed the commandant’s plan or if he was actually intending to kill Shesta, but the boy, him, was firmly decided to slay his enemy.

After a while, Miguel’s blade was again thrown to the floor, and with a dreadful, resigned, sad look the winner prepared to give the final blow.

‘That’s enough Shesta.’

Hearing the voice of the commandant, the boy raised his head happily, a head which contrasted very much with the loser’s one.

‘Gatti, I let you take care of these two. Make them good soldiers.’ he ordered before leaving the training room.

‘I’m sorry I’ve tried to kill you.’ Shesta apologized, lowering his head humbly.

Miguel’s face tensed in an angry expression.

‘Don’t apologize for that! You’re a soldier now!’

 

During the few following days, Dalet and I trained our new comrades. Miguel had already real skills, so he quickly became able to compete with us at sword. But in the case of Shesta, he never fought as well as he had done to enter the squadron. Nevertheless he was very good for hand-to-hand combat, as I had noticed previously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, next chapter comes soon!  
> The illustration is on DeviantArt (GM03)


	4. Life goes on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is only a link between the third and the fifth so it is shorter than the previous ones (yes, it's possible) but next is coming very soon.

‘So that’s it,’ Miguel said thoughtfully, ‘the commandant saved him and offered him a new life… It’s quite the same story as mine. But maybe you are trying to tell me that his devotion and gratitude are above mine and others.’

‘I’m trying to tell you that he doesn’t see commandant Dilandau like us. He would kill for him, which is much more significant for his gentle soul than for ours. And displeasing his master would be a big deal for him.’

‘Er, do you mean he, err… “loves” him?’ Miguel asked, half joking, half disgusted.

‘I wouldn’t say so, for I don’t know what it is really about.’

‘Oh dear god,’ my comrade declaimed, ‘Shesta sees commandant Dilandau as his prince charming!’

‘Stop joking around!’ I scolded him, ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Well, do _not_ talk to our commandant.’

‘What about Shesta?’

‘Don’t nurse him. He is strong, if he had wanted to, he would have escape the commandant. Even if none of us would have raised a finger against him, it’s still his choice not having defended himself.’ Miguel said firmly, but honestly.

‘Aye, I guess you’re right.’ I answered gloomily.

‘Of course I’m right, we have offered our souls to this devil, and now there is no turning back.’ he said dramatically, heading to his bed. ‘Sweet surrender…’ he hummed, pulling his blanket.

At this moment I was craving for punching him in the face, but I had myself forbidden any fight inside the dormitory. So I jumped in my bed, wondering what I could say to Shesta to lift his spirits.

***

The next morning, as we were leaving the room to go to training, I stopped Shesta at the door.

‘Don’t forget, you’re a Dragon Slayer’ I told him a bit severely.

Since he had woken up, he was acting normally. Only his eyes betrayed his anguish.

‘I won’t.’ he said, surprised.

‘Don’t worry,’ I added, allowing myself a gentler tone, ‘Just act as usual and everything will be fine.’

He smiled in response and bright lights appeared in his eyes. Those sparks usually came out in sign of happiness, and it was always a comfort for me to see them. I had come to think that that boy was both the happiest and the saddest man aboard The Vione.

 

When commandant Dilandau joined us to the practice, I could feel the tension growing in the group, but he and Shesta perfectly acted as if nothing had happened. As the relief was spreading among us, I started thinking that the commandant was _indeed_ unable to remember what he had done.

The day went off, and it was like everybody had forgotten the incident. At least until Dalet held me back in the corridor. He was obviously questioning himself and his purple eyes told me that he was dissatisfied with the situation.

‘Aren’t we going to do anything? Shesta has dedicated his whole life to commandant Dilandau, he would die for him. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.’ he pleaded, watching for a reaction.

Usually, Dalet and I didn’t talk much together because we knew each other for few years and usually we didn’t need a lot of words to communicate. But this time there was too much misunderstanding about the situation.

‘I agree, but we can’t judge commandant Dilandau’s acts.’ I said, his face getting darker as I was talking, ‘Do you think we should take some sort of revenge on him?’

‘Of course not.’ he answered with gloom, ‘but to forget and to act like if we didn’t know…’ he added, going away from me.

‘Dalet,’ I called, ‘We can’t interfere in their business, and forgiveness is only up to Shesta. But I believe he has already pardoned him.’

***

The night after this one was one of “Miguel’s nights”. I explain: anytime he could, he was used to steal some food and alcohol in the kitchens, then he organised secret card games in the dormitory, after curfew. So we were there, all shutters carefully closed, using candlelight, trying not to talk too loud. I don’t know if he had chosen this night especially to cheer Shesta up, but I saw that the latter was smiling from the bottom of his bed –he was too reluctant to disobey commandant Dilandau’s orders for joining the others– while he was listening to the guys, who were gaily jesting and quarrelling.

I didn’t join them either, preferring reading a book on my bed. I confess I didn’t understand very well what was written for it was a scientific work I had “borrowed” in Folken’s library.

We were at the part of the night during which the guys were telling stories, and I heard that Miguel was recounting our meeting. Every boy here knew that anecdote by heart, but it happened to change each time my comrade was telling it so they weren’t tired of hearing it. Thereby they were all cracking up, trying to restrain themselves from laughing too loud.

‘Dammit! You are killing me dude!’ Ryuon exclaimed as Miguel was concluding, ‘This is the funniest story I’ve ever heard!’

‘Then,’ he replied quietly, though he was pretty glad of his success, ‘you should hear Viole’s story. ’Cause that is something!’ he exclaimed with exaltation, ‘Oye, Viole, do you remember when you met commandant Dilandau?’

Viole was laying on his bed, on the top bunk, his hands behind his head.

‘How could I possibly forget how this madman burst into my life?’ he answered with a thin smile.

‘So go ahead! We are all listening to you.’

‘Well, at this time I was used to work in “the Bloand”…’ he started.

‘He had so many suitors,’ Miguel interrupted, ‘the commandant had to deal with them to be able to reach him!’

‘There was no suitor.’ Viole sighed.

‘They definitively refused to let him go away! I have to say, he was rather seductive…’

Brief, Viole had no chance to tell his story since Miguel was always disrupting him with his exuberant imagination. As their narrative became quickly incomprehensible, here comes the real version. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go for a long long fashback...  
> The illustration is on DeviantArt: GM04 (I think you get the numbering system by now, I'll try to make a drawing for each chapter).


	5. The Bloand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like Naria and Eriya, enjoy because it's the only chapter in which they will appear!

After being named commandant, Dilandau Albatou was given a few months to recruit about fifteen men to complete his squadron. During this period, we –Shesta, Miguel, Dalet and I– were dwelling in a building at headquarters. This building only included our quarters, commandant Dilandau and Folken’s quarters, a training area and some equipment’s rooms, staff’s quarters and a few laboratories the general worked in.

There were also two cat girls that Folken had brought with him. As they were training most of their time, we passed them sometimes. They weren’t very friendly with us, but we practiced sword together two or three times, and one thing leading to another, we talked. It is this way that I learnt how commandant Dilandau heard about Viole.

An evening, the commandant was entering the hall when he met Naria and Eriya, ready to go out. Either because he didn’t like cats, or because of their light clothing, he winced disdainfully. Seeing that, and acting exactly as cats, they headed right at him to rub against him, knowing he would loathe it.

‘Look at that, Naria, it’s the pretty killer baby under lord Folken’s command.’

As he was repulsing them, holding his breath with a stiff air, Naria put her arm around his shoulders.

‘By the way, weren’t you looking for new subordinates, sweetie?’ she said.

‘Stop touching me, shameless woman. What does it matter to you?’

‘Well maybe I know someone that would perfectly fit with your band of weirdos…’

‘You are talking about that guy? It is true that he is pretty strong.’ Eriya commented.

‘I don’t need your opinion. Now give me peace!’ 

‘Oh come on! Let me talk to you about him, you won’t regret.’ Naria pleaded, ‘Then we’ll let you alone.’ she added, her eyes half-closed, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

These girls were fearsome warriors, so the commandant was finally persuaded to listen to them.

‘You know that the Bloand is full of pretty young…’

‘Or less young.’ Eriya pointed out.

‘Well, let’s said pretty ladies,’ Naria resumed, ‘who bring happiness to men, provided that they own money.’

‘I know this district accommodates all the criminals and debauched people of Zaibach.’ the commandant grumbled, ‘why do you tell me that?’

‘What a grouchy boy,’ Eriya said, fiddling with his hair, ‘but how soft your hair is!’

‘Stop it.’ he warned.

‘It is said that one of these beautiful dancing butterflies is actually a man.’ Naria continued, ‘and instead of giving his guests what they are longing for, he takes all their belongings, by force, if needed.’

‘That is the man you want me to recruit!’ he shrieked, and I guess his face must have been of some amusement, between horror and disgust.

‘That is not all.’ she answered severely, ‘It is also said that one of his victims was the sergeant of the district. He was furious and swore he would have his revenge. Thus he sent many men to trap and catch him. But the guy avoided all the snares and he killed the soldiers if he was tackled head-on. He also managed to slay some gang leaders.’

Commandant Dilandau nodded, unable to make up his mind.

‘Come on! Don’t be so uptight.’ Eriya got annoyed.

‘Why don’t you come with us tonight and see by yourself?’ Naria suggested, bringing her face very close to the commandant’s one.

He shrank back, but the idea seduced him.

‘Alright, let’s go.’

‘Hmm, I hope you don’t mean to come clothed like that.’ the girl retorted with some disdain.

‘What is it again?’

‘If you arrive dressed as a poor soldier who comes to spend all his pay in drink, the girls won’t come to you.’

‘So much better.’

‘But don’t you want to approach the boy? It’s not easy to come near him, since he is researched by the militia.’

‘Moreover we can’t afford to hang out with a bumpkin…’

‘Fine, wait for me here!’ he barked, losing his temper.

 

After a while, he was sitting in a dark, noisy, full of alcohol’s smell tavern, simply dressed but with luxurious fabrics. From time to time, a girl came to him, talked to him, enticing. He disdainfully drove all of them away, until, annoyed by this game, he came back to the two sisters sat in the back of the public house.

‘Why are you coming for?’ Eriya asked.

‘If I stay with you they will stop buzzing round me. Furthermore I doubt this man will come. I even doubt he actually exists!’ he said, frowning.

‘Are you calling us liars?’ the girl challenged him.

‘There’s no doubt he will come.’ Naria added.

Commandant Dilandau was about to answer nastily, but at this moment another “girl” entered the tavern. The commandant guessed his strength by the manner he was moving, in a feline way. He was wearing a short figure-hugging blue dress, and black tights. His curly purple hair was tumbling like a waterfall on his naked shoulders.

‘Go back to your seat.’ Eriya whispered.

 

Viole had told me once that as soon as he crossed the threshold, the commandant hadn’t taken his eyes off him for a second. Puzzled by this mesmerizing stare, he had feigned indifference to see how far the glance would follow him. Then, as commandant Dilandau was sitting alone, he came to him slowly, spinning things out before sitting on his table. He engaged him in a conversation, not for a very long time since the commandant was –he still is– rather short of patience. Therefore he led him by the streets of the Bloand and brought him in an attic. There he let his guest sit down on the less trashy armchair.

‘What are you waiting for?’ the commandant asked impatiently as Viole stood still.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said sheepishly, ‘you have to pay first.’

‘Hmm? And how much am I supposed to pay?’

‘Everything that you are carrying.’ he answered, less kindly.

‘Really? Everything?’ his guest said with a sneaky smile.

‘You can keep your underpants.’ Viole retorted with a shrug.

He had suddenly taken out a thin sword from below the blanket of the bed, and had partly unsheathed it. At this, commandant Dilandau burst out laughing insanely and Viole’s face became threatening.

‘There is nothing to laugh about,’ he said with a grim look, ‘if you give me all your money I will not use violence.’

‘I’d rather violence, if you don’t mind.’ the commandant mocked, pulling a dagger from his coat.

‘As you wish.’

 

In the meantime, I was observing the scene with binoculars, hiding on the roof of the facing building, ready to launch the diabolical plan the commandant Dilandau had imagined. From my spot, I could watch the combat between him and the man in drag. He was a very good fighter and I have never seen such an elegant and graceful way of jousting anywhere else, except in Dalet’s sword-style. But even Dalet wasn’t as light as him. In the end, despite his skills, his sword was broken in two pieces by the wide blade of the commandant.

Below, in the street, Dalet was arriving, accompanied by a number of soldiers. We waved our hands at each other and the men melted in the dark, surrounding the house where the duel was taking place.

 

‘What a good fight!’ commandant Dilandau said in delight.

‘What makes you think this fight is over? Viole retorted curtly, holding his half sword like a dirk.

‘I don’t think it, I order it. Now listen to me, I am commandant Dilandau and I’m wishing to recruit you in my squadron.’

‘What?’

‘Silence. Before I do, you have to pass a test.’ he said, authoritatively a smirk appearing on his pale face.

‘I’m not going to pass anything!’ Viole got excited, preparing to attack.

‘Do not attack me before I finish. Trust me, it’s better for you.’

‘Alright, since I’m going to kill you I can grant you your last will…’

‘Ha ha ha! I like you! Anyway, do you recall the sergeant you fooled?’

This sentence raised the attention of the transvestite.

‘Good,’ the commandant resumed, ‘before I came to this tavern I visited him, just to remember you to him.’

Viole’s face angrily tensed.

‘He obviously remembered you, and we planned a trap to catch you. Dead or alive. All the soldiers of the district must be here by now…’

The boy hurried at the window to see by himself the soldiers crouching in the shadows of the street.

‘YOU FUCKIN’ BASTARD!’ he furiously bawled in a manly, powerful voice.

When Viole was flying off the handle, as I learnt later, both his vocabulary and tone of voice became rude, and though most people thought it didn’t fit his lovely face, I found it gave him magnetism.

The commandant only grinned in answer, then jabbed his dagger into the wooden table.

‘Take this with you, you’ll need it. All you have to do is escaping all your pursuers. If you make it through, come at the army’s headquarters and find me. I’ll make you my soldier. I won’t take part in the hunting, so you have a small chance to succeed.’

Viole spat like an angry cat, ‘you’ll pay it!’ Disregarding the weapon he was given, he pulled another sword from his bed, much like the broken one. He hastily tore his blue dress and fake breasts up (he was wearing a black tank top underneath) and he sneaked out by the skylight. As he was disappearing, the commandant opened the window.

‘He is escaping by the roof!’ he gaily shouted at us, trigging off the rush of soldiers.

 

While the pursuit was starting, I rejoined Dalet and the sergeant, at the same time as commandant Dilandau. The latter was merrily welcomed by the sergeant.

‘This time, he will not cope!’

‘I believe you.’ the commandant lied. ‘What is this?’ he asked, pointing at a public notice on the street’s wall.

‘Something that will assure me he won’t escape.’ the sergeant said proudly.

It was a wanted notice, with a picture of Viole, a highly tempting bounty for whoever helps capture him, and an explication informing of the chase.

‘As soon as you have entered the building with him, my men put them up in the entire district. Now I have to go ahead, I want to be there when he’ll be caught.’

‘Now he really has no chance to save himself.’ I said when the sergeant was gone.

‘Isn’t it…unfair?’ Dalet questioned guardedly.

‘Maybe, you two should go help him.’ the commandant answered, frowning.

It wasn’t a direct order as usually, so we slowly obeyed, hesitating, and finally walked down a street on our right, to look for the boy.

‘These two are his accomplices, catch them!’ we heard the commandant shouting behind us.

Dalet’s eyes met my own, shortly because we have had to jump aside in order to dodge a hail of arrows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual illustration is on DeviantArt: GM05  
> And there is an illustration in colour! Here the link: https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM05c-757528364


	6. Manhunt

We ultimately found Viole as we were crossing a bridge. Below us was the boy, about to be surrounded by a crowd made of soldiers and inhabitants of the district. Since he couldn’t run anymore, he considered diving into the dark, cold, grubby water. I dropped into the empty space while Dalet was tightly holding my ankles.

‘Hey you! Over here!’ I shouted at the fugitive, stretching my arms towards him.

He hesitated during a fraction of second, before jumping to catch my hands. With great agility and suppleness, he swiftly climbed on my body, made a pull-up and started running again. He didn’t wait for us, unaware of our intentions. We ran after him trying not to lose sight of him. Hunters were coming from every street we passed, armed with all kinds of harmful tools.

‘They are very much fiercer than the peasants who wanted Shesta’s skin!’ Dalet flung at me with a smile.

‘It’s because they were lynching him only for vengeance and entertainment. Here, it’s a question of money!’ I answered, thinking sadly about how misery could turn human beings into beasts.

We arrived at a crossroads, invaded by the same compact, excited and threatening horde.

‘The three are there!’ an ugly man roared, brandishing a saw.

‘Follow me!’ Viole told us while he was easily crawling on a gutter. We also managed to climb, although less elegantly. But when a man tried to reach us by the same way, the pipe fell down under his weight.

‘Why are you helping me?’ the boy asked suspiciously after we had jumped on another building.

‘Because commandant Dilandau ordered us, so that the chase was fairer.’

‘He did?’

‘He really wants you in his squadron, and I can’t blame him for this, you look quite strong.’ Dalet said with a wink.

‘There is no way I join him!’ Viole angrily answered.

For this we couldn’t blame him either.

 

We ran on the roofs until we had shaken off the hunters, then we went back down in the street. We had reached the suburbs, which were way quieter and darker than the Bloand.

‘We are not alone.’ I warned my companions.

‘But there are not many of them.’ Dalet replied defiantly as about ten guys were emerging from the shadows, holding long knives.

‘You are the three kids all the Bloand is running after?’ the nearer asked, grinning.

Viole returned a thin smile and we drew our swords.

The fight didn’t last long for they weren’t trained warriors and I think they also were a little drunk.

‘There are some of these craps thus far!’ Viole exclaimed, furiously ripping a placard from the wall.

He then caught the leader of the band who was still barely standing by his collar and thrusted the paper in his mouth.

‘Commandant Dilandau didn’t expect the sergeant would do that, I swear.’ Dalet tried to appease him.

‘But now all is dead for me here.’ he answered gloomily.

All around us, the inhabitants were emerging from their makeshift dwellings, watching at us without daring getting nearer. But they were becoming more confident as they were growing more and more numerous. I knew that all the suburbs were aware of our presence here, and that a gigantic human wave was about to roll on us. Dalet and I removed our uniform jackets, so that our three silhouettes would look alike.

‘We should split,’ I said, ‘I think the bounty is only on your head but we’ll try to draw some of them behind us. Join the headquarters and you’ll be safe.’

They nodded and we quickly parted.

 

When I reached the headquarters, few hours after midnight, I came across Dalet. He was coming back from the sickbay for he had got an arrow in the arm, but he looked very satisfied with his night. While we were heading to the dormitory, since there was no trace of Viole, we passed a lighted room.

‘I didn’t know you used to prowl during the night,’ we heard Folken say, ‘you seem cheerful.’

‘It was a good chase,’ commandant Dilandau answered, ‘but I have to say you have unseemly relations… these barefaced cats…’

Folken chuckled, amused by the disgust in the commandant’s voice.

‘Naria and Eriya are young, they are still trying to find themselves.’ he explained.

The commandant sniffed disdainfully before we heard the sound of his steps recede.

 

The next morning we met commandant Dilandau in the hall.

‘Did Viole come?’ Dalet asked.

‘No. You were supposed to be with him.’ he retorted, raising an eyebrow.

‘We parted to spread our pursuers. I don’t think he had any problem escaping.’

‘So what happened to him?’

‘Maybe,’ I said uneasily, ‘he didn’t want to come.’

The commandant frowned and remained silent.

Suddenly the door opened and Viole appeared, supported from both sides by Miguel and Shesta. He was badly injured, especially by a deep wound on his left side, apparently made by a sword. He fell on his knees, either because he could no longer stay standing, or to bow down in front of the commandant. Taking off his arms from Shesta and Miguel’s shoulders, he put his hands on the floor, bending his head.

‘Please, take me in your squadron, commandant Dilandau.’ he said in a whisper.

‘As I promised.’ the commandant smirked. ‘As soon as you’ll be able to, you will begin the training.’

Thus we led him to the infirmary. Shesta who was concerned about him stayed, while Miguel and Dalet went to the training area. I stayed too.

‘Who put you in that condition?’ I asked while the nurse was bandaging him.

‘A gang. Narshell’s gang. I thought they had left the city but they heard of the chase and they set a trap where they knew I would seek refuge.’ he slowly answered for it was difficult for him to talk.

‘Do they hold grudges against you?’

‘Well, not anymore. They are all dead by now.’

‘You seem to have a lot of enemies…’

I wasn’t meaning to ask for an explanation but he seemed to need to put off his burden before abandoning his former life.

‘It goes back to the time I was a kid,’ he said, a little wistfully, ‘we were a band of fellows, growing in the slum. We were hoping for bringing some fairness in these districts…’ he had a sad smile, ‘we were dreaming. While we were going after a trafficker’s gang, they killed all of us. Only I survived.’

‘And…after that you started putting you on drag?’ I asked after a pause.

‘The first time, I did that to assassinate the leader of the gang which wiped out mine. But as it had worked very well…It was an easy livelihood.’

We stayed silent for a moment.

‘How comes you changed your minds and decided to join us?’ I asked, more merrily.

He pondered a moment to formulate his thoughts.

‘First, I should thank the two of you, you and the brown haired guy.’

‘Dalet’

‘You helped me to get out of this mess and tried to convince me that your commandant wasn’t such a bad guy.’

‘He is not a “good guy”, though.’

‘And I should thank him even more: if he hadn’t set up this whole masquerade, I would never have had the guts to leave the district where I grew up…’

‘Now, you two should leave,’ the doctor interrupted, ‘he needs to rest.’

 

When Shesta and I found the others, I guessed that Dalet had recounted the events of the night to Miguel, because he was bent over with laughter.

‘Stop giggling, and fight properly!’ Dalet was screaming at him. Obviously he was regretting having spoken.

‘Dammit! I thought I was the weirdest in the squad but I concede he beat me!’ the other guffawed, hitting his thighs.

‘Don’t worry; you are far more fanciful than him.’ I said tiredly.

‘Hey Gatti, the commandant wants you to be ready at seven o’clock tonight.’ he replied, ‘You have to travel with him to the East Harbour.’

‘But it’s around a day’s drive from here…’

‘Yeah I know. You don’t sleep a lot these days.’

I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me complaining, so we started to train.

Yet, during that day, I had had to review my judgement upon Miguel. Though he was a good swordsman he was very patient with Shesta, slowing down his own progress to teach him sword. Of course he was still mocking him and complaining about his weakness all the time, nevertheless I think he gave him valuable advices.

 

Since I’m at this point of my narrative, I shall relate how Guimel and the others joined the squad, which will certainly take a lot of pages. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next time Guimel will finally appear ^^ he's my favourite! (ok, they're all my favourite)  
> I'm going to be away for a few weeks, with few internet and no time for drawing or writing so I won't update before September.  
> Illustration on DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM06-757660678


	7. The East Harbour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guimel is finally here, I really like this character! But you may find him weird...  
> The illustration for this chapter is on DeviantArt (https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM07-765332097)

At seven o’clock I was in the entrance of the building and at seven past ten commandant Dilandau and I were at the boarding area. We boarded a very small vessel with only a cockpit and a narrow room with two berths side by side, and only enough space to slip between them.

‘We are going to sleep during the flight,’ the commandant said.

So I stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, and pulled the blanket over me. I wasn’t anxious about the proximity between us since I was used to sleep in such conditions, but I was surprised that commandant Dilandau accepted to be treated like a simple soldier. I guessed his impatience was strong enough so that he disregards his comfort. I knew that the officer of the harbour had offered to introduce his best men to him and we were flying over there hoping to find new recruits.

I fell asleep soon, as usually, but I was awaken a moment later by sounds of struggling next to me. In the semi-darkness, I saw that the commandant was rolling in his bed, mumbling while he was probably screaming in his dream.

‘Take me home! I don’t want to be alone!’ he faintly yelled.

Well, that was a situation I was certainly not prepared to deal with.

‘What should I do?’ I asked myself, ‘hmm… what would Dalet do? He would ask himself what to do just like me… And Shesta? He would wake him up, try to comfort him with concern and would get slapped… Uh? Miguel? What would he do?’

I silently put my mouth near to his ear.

‘It’s okay,’ I whispered, ‘I’m here.’

‘Ja… Jajuka. Is that you?’ he murmured with an anguished tone.

‘Who the hell is that “Jajouca”?’ I wondered, ‘yes it’s me, it’s going to be alright now.’ I whispered again.

‘Hmm…’ he sounded, falling in a quieter slumber.

I went back to my own bed, with an irrepressible and impish smile which made me feel silly.

 

I woke up as soon as sunlight slipped in the cabin, but I stayed still until the vessel landed. Commandant Dilandau sat up on his bed and seemed unhappy to find himself here, the corners of his mouth firmly lowered; anyway he was never glad to see my face.

We got off the spatial ship and walked in a huge hangar with a great many comings and goings of the dockers. We could see a small piece of sea, mainly hidden by massive ships, while on the opposite side all kinds of floating vessels were landing or taking off. The East Harbour was not only a big commercial and military port and an international airport but also a major crossroads for the earthly trade routes.

We were welcomed by Major Francez, who was a stocky man with tanned skin and black beard.

‘Where are those men you said they could become great soldiers?’ enquired commandant Dilandau.

‘They should arrive soon,’ the major answered, looking preoccupied.

‘Major Francez!’ a non-commissioned officer called, hurrying, ‘The convoy from the north province is here! It seems they have been attacked by the rebels.’

‘Which rebels?’ my commandant asked.

‘Former citizens from Toruan. They try to prevent us from exploiting the Drag Energists quarries in their former country.’ Francez explained, frowning.

We followed the messenger to a train of some sorts of stagecoaches, pulled by tall horses. The carriages were riddled with arrows and spears, like if they had taken a ride in the past.

There was no man in them except a young boy sat on the front seat of the first vehicle. He was looking all around him with his wide round eyes, as if he didn’t know where he was. Then he finally caught sight of the major and climbed down.

‘Mission accomplished,’ he said, standing at attention.

‘Where are the others? And Sargass?’

The boy turned to the caravan, looking for his companions.

‘I don’t know, I suppose they were killed by the rebels…’ he answered absent-minded.

‘Sargass… Wasn’t him the man you told me about?’ commandant Dilandau reflected, ‘What happened to him?’ he asked the young conveyor.

‘I don’t remember.’ he said with the same monotonous voice.

The commandant turned to Francez, startled.

‘The cargo is integral, it seems.’ the non-commissioned officer notified, while he was inspecting the vehicles with other longshoremen.

‘How comes only this lad survived?’ the commandant wondered aloud.

‘Guimel has a sort of skill to stay alive,’ the major answered with a shrug, ‘what I’m going to do with him now that Sargass is dead?’

Apparently, the named Guimel was asking himself the same question, his misty gaze rambling here and there.

‘Attack him Gatti.’

I was expecting that the idea of making a soldier of this lunar boy would run through his minds, but this conveyor was really not the kind of person I was willing to attack. Besides he looked younger than me, he was so thin and pale that he made me think of a feather. Though he wore a sword at his belt I doubted he had already unsheathed it at least once. Still I headed to him, slowly raising my sword.

‘Come on Gatti!’ the commandant growled impatiently.

‘Don’t worry about him,’ Francez added, ‘he is not as weak as he looks.’

I made up my mind to hit him with the flat of my sword. Guimel didn’t even turn his eyes toward me when I rushed on him. He moved apart at the last moment, like a dead leaf blown by the wind. I turned around and saw his back.

He stayed still without any reaction, but a glance at commandant Dilandau sufficed to make me understand that I had to keep fighting. I attacked him again and again and every time he dodged like if he could read my minds. However I charged at him one last time and knocked him down with my knee while he was avoiding my blade.

He got back on his feet, glancing angrily at me, and that was the first time I was seeing his eyes express something else than emptiness.

‘I take him.’ the commandant announced.

‘Really?’ the major questioned, looking doubtfully at him, ‘you want to make him a soldier?’

‘Of course, don’t you agree Gatti?’

‘He is not bad,’ I answered, shrugging and giving up the idea of arguing.

But I was wondering if he had made his choice while he was watching the “fight” or when he had seen the anger on the face of the boy. Maybe he had already decided to recruit him before the duel.

‘So it’s for sure? Francez asked again, ‘I would be relieved if you would take charge of him, but I can’t guarantee you will be able to do something with him.’

His guest nodded ostensibly so he turned toward the conveyor.

‘Guimel, here is commandant Dilandau. He will take care of you from now on. Go fetch your belongings and then you’ll follow him.’

He came back soon with a small bundle and stood right in front of his new superior, lifting his head to look in the pale red eyes. The commandant seemed uneasy at this inappropriate stare, he wiggled a little and I understood that his hand was itching. But he was smart enough to know it was a bad idea, and fortunately he found enough self-control to hold himself back.

‘Don’t look at me like that.’ he said instead.

Guimel seemed surprised by the order but he looked down.

‘I still have something to fix here, so you two are coming back to headquarters. I’ll join you later.’ the commandant added. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> In the next chapter we'll see more about Guimel :)


	8. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual illustration is on DeviantArt (GM8-> https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM08-765747573)

Guimel and I returned in a bigger ship than the small fast shuttle, but it travelled slower thus we arrived the next morning. Since the boy didn’t look tired, I took him straight to one of the training rooms, aware that it wouldn’t be easy to teach him to fight.

I was happily surprised to discover that the obsolete guymelef we used to train with was not alone anymore: two other armours had joined it, as old as the first one. Until now, only Dalet and I had tried it out, but we couldn’t simulate a combat.

I was inspecting them when Miguel, Shesta and Dalet came in.

‘I introduce Guimel to you guys; he was a conveyor for the army before.’ I stated, ‘We have three guymelefs now, so it would be good that Miguel and Shesta start using them.’

As Dalet didn’t feel to teach the others to handle the giant armours, I let him train Guimel. At this stage, I could move with a guymelef rather freely, though I still had difficulties to use the weapons. The two other were starting from scratch, so they could barely stand up, and I gave them tips while I was training myself.

About half an hour later, Dalet called out to me.

‘That’s no good,’ he said, ‘I can’t make him fight.’

‘Show me.’ I replied, although I suspected what was going wrong.

Guimel had actually drawn his sword and he was holding it properly, as Dalet had taught him. But when the latter attacked him he only instinctively dodged. However his adversary was too swift so he was soon disarmed.

‘Maybe you should try hand-to-hand combat?’ I suggested.

Dalet glanced at me, outraged, because he loathed fighting with his bare hands. I didn’t want to argue so I called Shesta instead. He attacked him as I had the day before, and I attentively watched Guimel’s movements.

‘Stop, Shesta.’ I said, climbing down my machine, ‘Now Shesta, you are going to attack me as you have done. Guimel, watch carefully.’

I dodged Shesta’s charge, imitating Guimel.

‘That is how you react, Guimel. Now look again. Shesta, the same.’

This time I caught his arm and shoulder to make him fall, using his speed and his weight.

‘This is self-defence. Now one last time Shesta.’

As he was rushing on me, I gripped his arm with my left hand to throw off his balance forward and I punched him in the stomach with my other fist.

‘That was counterattack.’ I said while Shesta was falling on his knees.

Maybe I had hit a little too hard but he was used to take blows very well.

‘Do you think you can do the same thing?’ I asked Guimel.

In answer, he opened widely his green eyes, so much that I got lost in them for a second, and then he nodded imperceptibly.

I took charge of his training and let my guymelef to Dalet. I started to teach him self-defence, and since he was doing well –apparently he had skills for learning– I tried counterattack. He didn’t hit hard enough but he got it quickly. I was convinced he was strong, so I brought a wooden plank and I asked him to break it with his fist while I was holding it vertically. He amazingly succeeded at the first attempt.

‘Good, that’s how you have to hit each time.’ I complimented on him.

‘Ouch! It hurts.’ he moaned.

‘You’ll get used to that’, I assured him.

We continued hand-to-hand combat for a few minutes, then we practised sword in the same way.

Around noon, he was able to fight properly, though he wasn’t as good as he could have been. But since we were destined for being guymelef pilots I made him tried out. Whereas it had taken Shesta and Miguel half a day to control their machine, –and much to their annoyance– Guimel immediately understood the functioning of his armour, at ease in his movements as well as Dalet and I.

We three were fighting for the first time with guymelefs when commandant Dilandau burst into the room.

‘How is it doing with Guimel?’ he asked after having watched us a short time.

‘He is ok with sword and he handles his guymelef very well but he doesn’t use the weapons yet.’ I summed up.

‘What about you Gatti?’

‘I still have to train.’

He nodded and left the room, muttering about something he had to deal with Folken.

 

We stopped training a little later, since it was almost evening, and we headed to the changing-room.

‘Hey, fluffy-head!’ Miguel called Guimel who was walking ahead of him.

As the boy didn’t answer, he gripped his shoulder.

‘I’m talking to you fluffy-head!’ he insisted.

‘My name is not “fluffy-head”,’ Guimel retorted, and he tugged his shoulder out of the grip, brutally enough to knock Miguel over.

‘Damn brat!’ he spat, landing on his buttocks, ‘I’m going to teach you…’

‘Give him peace,’ I cut him short, ‘he has just arrived.’

‘Yeah, don’t be so annoying Miguel,’ Dalet added.

‘Are you alright Miguel?’ Shesta asked kindly.

‘And I’M the annoying one? You guys are such boring people…’ he grumbled.

 

While we were changing, Miguel again tried to approach Guimel.

‘So, fluffy-head, tell me how do you do to avoid any attack so easily?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, it’s like you know exactly what we are going to do, even if we are behind your back!’ Shesta added, obviously impressed.

Though he didn’t seem willing to answer, Guimel finally accepted, since we all were glancing at him, without aggressiveness.

‘You know, when you move, you displace air, that’s why I feel you,’ he explained with his absent tone, ‘You also change the light and make noise.’

‘You feel the air movements?’ Miguel exclaimed incredulous.

Being able to appreciate these tiny variations was already almost supernatural, but being able to interpret them with such accuracy was barely imaginable. Nonetheless, Guimel nodded like if it was perfectly natural for him.

‘I have heard of people who are…hmm, maladjusted for society,’ Dalet intervened, ‘but these persons can have stupendous brain abilities.’

We glanced again at the dreamy boy, on who those last words seemed to have no effect. So it wasn’t instinct or this kind of things but extraordinary analytical skills.

‘So he is a sort of weird genius?’ Miguel summed up, scowling at Guimel.

Since this lad had come, I had felt a vague sense of uneasiness in the group, but now it was more perceptible.

Dalet shrugged, ‘I don’t know but it’s possible that he is different.’

I wondered if commandant Dilandau had guessed his abilities or if it was only a whim which proved to be a stroke of luck.

 

A while latter, we were entering the mess hall. It was a wide room, used by all the soldiers of headquarters, crowded, noisy, and full of stew smells. We found some place to sit together but Guimel remained standing.

‘I don’t like this place,’ he said, ‘I go out.’

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Miguel frowned, ‘Just sit down and eat!’

‘Don’t give me any command.’ the boy replied with a tone that brought a wave of coldness.

‘Let him do as he pleases,’ I said, as Miguel was about to answer, ‘he needs to make his marks.’

Thus Guimel left, under the disgruntled gaze of my comrade.

‘Shesta! Stop stuffing yourself!’ suddenly scolded Dalet who was seated in front of the blond boy, ‘You’re not a stealer anymore. No one is going to take your food off, so eat cleanly.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Shesta blushed, his cheeks full.

‘Ho ho ho!’ Miguel became cheerful again, ‘don’t incommode Lord Dalet, Shesta, he is used to a higher society than us!’

‘Don’t be so casual, we are part of an elite squadron, we have to be worthy of this honour and to honour the name of the man we owe it,’ Dalet scowled at him.

‘I don’t think commandant Dilandau really cares about the way we eat, though.’ I pointed.

‘That’s not sure,’ Miguel replied, ‘he is quite sensitive…’

 

Meanwhile, Guimel had gone to the dormitory, where he found Viole. The boy hadn’t recovered yet and was resting in his bed since he had left the infirmary.

‘Uh? You’re a new one? I’m Viole’ the casualty welcomed him, ‘I’m sorry, you’ll have to take the upper bed since I can’t really move…’ he added lifting his thumb to indicate the berth above him.

The room contained other bunk beds but there were nor sheet nor pillow on them. The other nodded and put the small bag he had carried all the day long on his bed, while Viole was watching at him curiously. Yet he didn’t ask any question, for he himself didn’t like being questioned.

Guimel looked around the bedroom before heading to the door.

‘I’m going for a walk.’ he said, trying to be polite.

‘Can I go with you?’ Viole hopefully asked, ‘I’m stuck in here for three days…’

As his companion had nodded again and was waiting for him, he took a pair of crutches out of underneath his bed.

‘I don’t know your name.’ he said while he was following the boy in the corridor.

‘I’m Guimel.’

‘Can I ask you what do you think of the commandant?’ Viole resumed after a pause.

He wasn’t a talkative person but the isolation of the past days had increased his gregariousness.

‘Nothing.’ he answered, and that was probably the truth at this time.

‘I’m still wondering about him, he looks rather crazy… By the way, how was the training today?’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘Uh?’

They arrived at the top of the stairs above the deserted square located at the boundary of headquarters.

‘Isn’t it my favourite slut?’ they heard, and the voice made Viole sweat a little. ‘I knew you would finally manifest yourself. I’ve heard that you killed Narshell…’

‘Kolg.’ the former transvestite grinded, watching the ten men around him.

Two of them placed themselves behind the boys to prevent any attempt to turn back. With a scowl, the young man drew his sword, although he wasn’t able to fight.

‘You look in a bad state,’ the man noted with a crooked smile, ‘It’s going to be too easy.’

He rushed on him and knocked him down, making him hurtle down the stairs. Viole huddled up to protect himself from the blows but his wounds had already started to bleed again.

‘Who is this one?’ another asked, pointing at Guimel.

‘Who cares? We will sell him as a slave. It will partly pay back what that bastard stole from me.’ the leader asserted.

‘He has nothing to do with me!’ Viole protested with anger, trying to stand up, as some men were beginning to hustle the boy.

Kolg pinned him against the ground with his foot.

‘You are going to die very slowly.’ he threatened, then turning to Guimel, ‘why don’t he even try to defend himself?’

Indeed, the youth was more absent than ever, but his face betrayed a combat which was taking place inside his head.

None of the men had noticed the presence of a watcher behind them, walking down the stairs of another building.

‘What are you waiting for to fight, Guimel?’ commandant Dilandau shouted angrily, with a so terrible voice that all the hoodlums started.

The eyes of the boy lit up but he still seemed unable to move, like paralysed, while the louts were beating him.

The commandant frowned, and all of a sudden he hurried toward the gang, sword drawn. He hit them in an alienated way, actually like a mechanical mincer, losing self-control, and with flaming eyes. It didn’t take long to drive away the startled aggressors.

‘Go back to your slum!’ he yelled after them.

Then he turned to Viole, paused, picked up his thin sword and broke it.

‘Gatti will give you a regular one. Bring him to the sickbay.’ he commanded to Guimel.

***

Guimel closed the door of the infirmary behind him and found himself face to face with the commandant, who was glancing at him thoughtfully.

‘You had undergone a traumatism.’ he said, and it wasn’t a question. ‘If you want to belong to my squadron, you have to overcome it.’ he added before leaving, while the boy was opening his eyes wider and wider.

That event marked the beginning of Guimel’s mental recovery.

 

The next morning, Viole joined us to the training room, though his wounds were worse than the day before.

‘You should rest,’ I told him, ‘there’s no need to retard your healing.’

‘I will only watch you, in order to train mentally and maybe do few gymnastic exercises.’ he answered with a smile.

I let him sit in one corner and I climbed in a guymelef.

‘Do you know when we will get our guymelefs?’ asked Miguel who remained on the floor.

‘I’ve heard that their construction is underway.’ I answered, ‘Anyway I will use my machine a short time today, and then you’ll have it.’

‘Be quick, I’m fed up practicing sword with Shesta…’

‘Want to make few passes with me?’ Viole proposed. 

‘Great, an effeminate disabled and a pacifist rag doll…’

‘Let’s show him Shesta!’ he retorted, winking at the boy.

‘Sure!’ he agreed merrily.

Though he handled his sabre less elegantly than his former thin sword and moved slower because of his wounds, Viole was still a fearsome opponent, as Miguel learnt soon. As always, Shesta used his “rushing on the adversary sword raised and come what may” technique, which, combined with the more efficient style of his fellow put the overconfident boy in a delicate situation.

I was glad to see such cohesion in the group. Whereas friendship isn’t required in a squad, connivance is a good thing for battle strategies.

After a while, Guimel and I left our guymelefs to the others and I asked Viole and him to watch how they used their heavy weapons.

‘They don’t look very manoeuvrable.’ Viole frowned.

‘These are old machines,’ I explained, ‘the new ones should be better. But it’s good to train with those; we will be more effective thereafter.’

He nodded, focusing again on the fight. Training when you are three combatants isn’t easy, especially when you have to move huge armour made of metal. But Dalet’s idea of a circle was working: he was attacking Shesta, who was after Miguel, who was assailing the first one. Their fight was starting to look like something satisfactory, even if it was hard to defend oneself while attacking someone else.

Although they were moving rather slowly, at one point, Shesta got caught up in his movement and sliced –the guymelefs were outdated but the weapons had been replaced or were sharpened very well– Miguel’s armour’s arm and leg.

‘Oh no! Miguel!’ Shesta yelled anxiously as the giant was collapsing.

‘It’s ok, only his guymelef is touched.’ Dalet soothed him.

Miguel crawled out of his machine, belching out a lot of coarse words. Noticing that we were all looking at him he regained some control over himself.

‘Well, there are only two guymelefs left by now.’ he said with his usual casual tone, ‘I let you two train together.’

Then he crossed the field to join us, displaying a very proud expression for someone that had just been defeated.

‘I’m going to train Guimel to sword. He is a potential talented fighter and he needs a tough guy to make progress.’

‘That sounds ok with you Guimel?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow since the boy didn’t react.

He nodded and stood up. Seeing how vehement Miguel was fighting I started to think that he was using his fellow to unwind, but all the same it was a good way to force him to focus on his adversary.

In the following days, when Viole had fully recovered, our trainings became more interesting because we were numerous enough to simulate realistic combats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Guimel has some kind of autism. I suppose that in Zaibach people like him are treated as simple-minded and shaped to be usefull for the society...  
> Thank you for reading :)


	9. Conspiracy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> This chapter is a kind of short story, although it is linked to the rest of the narrative.  
> The illustration is a bit special too ;) https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM09-788188092

‘It’s been four days since Fluffy has left,’ Miguel said as we were leaving the refectory, an evening, ‘he should have already come back.’

‘Are you worried about him?’ I asked, ‘It’s not like you…’

‘He isn’t able to care for himself.’

‘He is with Shesta.’

‘Who isn’t able to care for himself.’

‘Don’t judge people are weak just because they don’t speak loud like you,’ I said with a shrug.

‘It’s not about worrying or judging; I don’t trust them.’

‘Commandant Dilandau has chosen them for this mission, he must have his reasons.’

Since the upper hierarchy had refused to provide the (very high) number of Drag Energists our commandant had required, he had sent Shesta and Guimel to collect some. It was absolutely illegal as they had to steal them during a conveyance.

‘I would like to know these reasons.’ Miguel retorted, sceptical.

‘Guimel has worked in this field, he knows the itinerary.’

‘And Shesta?’

‘He will make sure they won’t get caught, like he was used to. They will fulfil their mission,’ I affirmed.

‘So why haven’t they come back yet?’

‘Guimel is coming over here.’ Viole interfered.

The boy was indeed walking toward us, carrying a canvas bag which probably contained the Energists.

‘Where is Shesta?’ Dalet asked.

‘He is dead.’ Guimel answered, toneless.

‘What? What happened?’ we all exclaimed.

‘We fought and I killed him.’ he said, turning quietly his hazy eyes toward us.

‘Don’t screw with us!’ Miguel got carried away, his face reddening with anger.

‘Why would you have fought?’ I asked, trying to think calmly.

‘I don’t remember.’

Of course. His blackouts were very practical at present. At this moment I noticed that a servant was going away, rather hurriedly. Had he listened to our conversation?

‘I have to report to commandant Dilandau.’ Guimel told me, ‘where can I find him?’

‘He is away, he must come back tonight.’ I answered, attempting to read the minds behind the absent eyes.

‘Then I’m going to our quarters.’ he said, before ditching us here.

 

‘What do we do?’ Dalet wondered, breaking the silence that had fallen over us for some minutes.

‘Well, if he has actually killed Shesta, commandant Dilandau is the one who must judge him and punish him,’ I reasoned.

‘So we won’t do anything?’ Miguel summed up with irritation.

‘He seemed in a hurry to leave us,’ Dalet pointed out.

‘Maybe we could tail him?’ Viole suggested. As no one answered, he resumed ‘I’ll go check the dormitory; if he isn’t there I’ll give you a sign through the window, so that you can start the researches.’

It didn’t take long for him to appear at the casement, waving negatively his arms.

‘We should part,’ I said, ‘it won’t be easy to find him if he has left the headquarters.’

They started running in all directions, and I was about to do the same when I saw the servant I had noticed earlier. He was coming from a district neighbouring the military complex. I hid to let him pass without being seen, and I noted that he himself was casting furtive glances around him. The street he was coming from was a lively road with bars full of soldiers. It wasn’t anomalous that the domestic had been there but his cautious attitude however was suspect.

I took that street and as I was passing in front of a tavern, I spotted the fluffy cream-colored hair disappearing in a corridor. I entered discreetly the crowded establishment and followed the same path as Guimel. At the end of the dark corridor, I found a guard in front of a closed door. Before he could say or do anything I stunned him. Then I put him aside and I slightly opened the door.

I saw Guimel from the back, facing a moving picture –a screen, I guessed although I had never seen one– where a man was talking, a mask over his face and wrapped in a black cloak, much like the one Folken was used to wear.

‘Why have you killed your comrade?’ the masked man asked with a mix of anger and anxiety in his voice.

‘I’ve asked him to help me for the assassination but he refused so I killed him.’ the boy answered as flatly as always.

‘Don’t say that word!’ his interlocutor ordered, ‘why couldn’t you fulfil your mission by your own?’

Behind the man a door opened, and Guimel started to talk continuously like if he wanted to divert his attention from what was happening on his side of the screen.

‘I judged it was wiser, since the man you want to kill is very strong and well protected by…’

‘I told you not to speak openly of your mission!’ he cut him off with anger.

Through the slightly ajar door, Shesta’s head appeared. Instead of feeling relieved at this sight, I frowned.

‘What those hotheads are devising?’ I wondered.

While the two were still talking, Shesta raised his hands in one fist and hit the man on the top of his skull. He fell on the floor, groggy, and the boy gave his accomplice the thumbs-up. I chose that moment to reveal my presence.

‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

Guimel turned his head toward me but he didn’t look surprised.

‘We only uncovered a plot to assassinate commandant Dilandau,’ he answered, ‘but I have to catch up with Shesta before he gets in troubles.’

‘Where is he?’

‘In a building, in a wasteland of the suburb.’

We went there, and before Shesta could explain I stopped him.

‘You will tell the whole story when we will all be gathered.’

 

Luckily we met Viole on the way back, and he told us in which tavern we could find Miguel. We went fetch him –he had totally dropped out the researches and rum had put him in a good mood– meanwhile Viole was looking for Dalet. Fortunately he knew the city like the back of his hand so he brought him back in no time.

 

Back at headquarters, we pushed the inanimate conspirator in the wide hall and waited for Shesta and Guimel explanations.

‘Two days before we travelled on mission,’ Guimel began, ‘a man took me to the bar where you found me and through a screen, a masked man asked me to kill commandant Dilandau in exchange for money and promotion.’

‘What? Why didn’t you tell us this?’

‘I couldn’t because he had sent spies in the headquarters. If I had talked he would have knew immediately and I wouldn’t have been able to find him.’

‘He is right,’ I confirmed, ‘there are spies at least in the staff.’

‘I had to wait for being alone with Shesta to tell him the matter.’

‘But why did you tell us he was dead?’

‘So that the conspirator would call me when he would have learnt that, and while I would be talking to him, Shesta could catch him. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come forward.’

‘And how did Shesta know his hideout?’

‘I had been in this room before, a few years ago. I remembered where it was,’ Guimel affirmed.

‘How could you remember and recognize it though you only saw it through a screen?’ I asked incredulous, ‘I thought you had memory problems.’

‘But I can recall places very well.’

‘Why had you been in such a place?’

‘I don’t remember. Events are hard for me to recall.’

‘And you knew the way to go there?’

‘Partly. That’s why it took us some time before I came to headquarters.’

‘It’s true.’ Shesta swore, seeing how much dubious we were.

‘That’s my little genius!’ Miguel shouted out his joy, slapping vigorously Guimel’s back.

The boy had a small grin, contented with himself. That was the first smile we saw on his face. Shesta also had a pert smile, pleased with the trick they had played on us.

‘Who is that?’ Folken’s voice asked suddenly, breaking the merriment moment. ‘Is he a sorcerer?’

‘We don’t know. He was attempting to commission commandant Dilandau’s assassination.’

‘That is strange; they have no interest in his death. It is more likely that he wanted to put me in troubles through this way, since they weren’t able to kill me,’ he reflected.

‘Have you been targeted by murder attempt?’ I asked.

‘Yes, few years ago. But I think they still hold grudges against me.’

‘Fo… Folken!’ the sorcerer stammered, waking up and looking all around him with uneasiness, ‘get me out of here, I’ve been abducted!’

‘I think these men want to hand you over to the man you tried to assassinate, Pharoe.’ Folken replied, implacable.

‘Speak of the devil…’ Miguel muttered, and the captive shrank at the sound of commandant Dilandau’s pace.

Intrigued by the mob, he came toward us.

‘What is going on?’ he asked, looking up and down at the man pathetically crawling on the floor.

‘Your soldiers caught that man who was apparently plotting to kill you.’

Commandant Dilandau looked at us, then again at the moaning sorcerer.

‘Please Folken…’

‘What do you want me to do with this? Throw it out!’ he grumbled with annoyance.

‘Yes sir.’

So we showed him out of the building.

‘Should we really let him go away?’ Dalet asked me, ‘I don’t think commandant Dilandau would mind if we stab him…’

‘No! No!’ the sorcerer screamed, shuddering and trying to escape the grip of the boy.

‘If someone tries to kill the commandant we will just beat him,’ I replied with a shrug.

My comrade nodded and released the arm of the conspirator who took his heels and disappeared in the darkness.

‘I should say a word to the servant who spied on us.’ I said, closing the door.

But he had already had the wisdom to disappear, and thus the matter was settled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was maybe weird, but that how I imagine Zaibach.  
> I don't know what you think about the sorcerers trying to kill Dilandau but I believe that not every one of them care about him, and that there is rivalry amongst the sorcerers...  
> Thanks for reading


	10. Restless day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I had a lot a fun writing this one, hope you enjoy!

Another day, as we were going out to jog before the training, we found the facing building burning. It was very early in the morning so the place was deserted.

‘Should we call for help to fix this?’ I asked the others.

Since it was a warehouse dedicated to weapons and other equipment storage there should have been no one inside and thus there was no hurry to risk foolishly our lives into this.

‘Wait,’ Miguel reflected, ‘I heard that the commandant’s new guymelef was to be brought last night and it has most probably been stored here…’

‘You mean commandant Dilandau could be inside?’ Shesta realised with anguish.

We all ran to the building without any prudence at all, spreading among the rubble. The ground floor contained the uniforms and basic blades stocks but the first floor was occupied by gunpowder and fuel, which had started to explode and to make the floor falling down. Since it was more likely that the commandant was upstairs, I used the debris to get there. Here the smoke was so thick that I could barely see at a foot from me. But fortunately I bumped into a red giant lying on the floor, and the cockpit was half opened.

‘I found him!’ I yelled, ‘You all get out of here!’

I undertook to take the commandant out of his machine but while I was half carrying half dragging him, a huge beam came off from the ceiling. I covered commandant Dilandau with my body, since I didn’t have the time to pull him away. Shooting up from nowhere and jumping on the guymelef, Dalet deflected the girder with his sword.

‘Hurry up!’ he exclaimed, helping me to lift the body, ‘It’s going to collapse.’

‘Wait, what are you doing?’ I asked as he was heading toward a window, ‘We are not at ground level.’

‘No time to go down other way!’ he retorted.

As he was right, and since we were only at first floor, I put the commandant on my shoulder and let Dalet go first and break the pane. I jumped after him and landed on my feet.

‘Don’t stay here, it’s going to crumble!’ I shouted at the others who had gathered round us.

We started running again and I was slowed down by my burden but Dalet stayed behind me. Just as I heard the rumble of the building falling apart, my comrade pounced on me to push me forward and I sprawled on the floor, feeling the blast of air blew by the rubble, while he elegantly landed, on one knee.

I turned the commandant onto his back to examine him and the others surrounded us.

‘He is unconscious but he is breathing slightly,’ I said.

‘Isn’t he always unconscious?’ Miguel pointed ironically.

I bared my teeth, ‘Do you _really_ think it’s time for joking?’

‘Quick! We have to take him to the infirmary!’ Shesta interrupted, grasping commandant Dilandau’s shoulders.

We helped him to lift him and hastened to the sickbay which was in our building, leaving the warehouse all ablaze. In the hall, we came across Folken who had seen the flames and was wondering what had occurred.

‘What happened to him?’ he asked us, looking at the commandant and standing in our way.

‘He must have inhaled smoke.’ I answered absentmindedly, trying to pass.

‘It smells like Burein…’ he noted.

‘Yes, there were Burein’s barrels in the warehouse,’ Shesta confirmed.

‘This is bad,’ Folken frowned, ‘he will die of asphyxiation if he doesn’t take the good medicine soon.’

‘WHAT?’

‘It’s okay, I have got the proper herbs in my lab,’ he tried to calm us, ‘bring him in my office while I’m going to make this.’

We obeyed, even though we didn’t like having to rely on him. He came back a few seconds after we put the commandant on a couch with cat scratches, tossing a liquid in a glass.

‘Make him smell this.’ he ordered me, giving me the medicine.

I did as he said, lifting slightly commandant Dilandau's head and putting the goblet under his nose. I had never noticed before how young he was, actually about the same age as me. His face was peaceful, which was rather kind of worrying –I had been able to see that even his slumbers weren’t quiet– but still held this natural nobleness, his only feature that didn’t seem artificial.

‘Now make him drink.’

Folken peered at us to check that he drank all the mixture.

‘This will slow down the symptoms,’ he explained, ‘making the real medicine will take longer.’

He went back to his lab which was the adjacent room, whistling merrily. For some reason he found it amusing to nurse the young man, and though I didn’t like his flippancy, I felt that the commandant was safe with him.

‘We should help extinguishing the fire.’ I said to my fellows since there was nothing else we could do here. Moreover I remembered that I had forgotten to pick up the sword of the commandant which was still in the rubble. Unpardonable mistake.

‘Guimel, stay with him,’ I told the boy who had reacted slower than the others.

He shot a displeased glance at Folken who we could see by the door, for the idea of staying alone with him both worried and disgusted him.

 

We came back a moment after and found the commandant in the infirmary. I had gotten back his sword: the sheath was partly burned but the blade itself was intact. Guimel was sitting in the back of the room, watching the two men arguing without seeing them, like a teddy-bear left out on a chair.

‘The Clymer Claw wasn’t created to throw flame,’ the strategist was saying, ‘you should use this liquid metal more wisely.’

‘I don’t need your advices,’ commandant Dilandau retorted with a smirk, ‘you make the weapons and I make the best of them. I perfectly know how to use this.’ He frowned a little, ‘but I had required a fireproof guiymelef…’

‘Is that why you set fire to the warehouse? To test your guymelef’s element? You are really too much reckless… Anyway, your Alseides is fireproof; he hasn’t got a single scratch in the fire, has he?’

‘No he is immaculate but he doesn’t protect from toxic smokes.’

‘You don’t need to use fire in battles, not with those guymelefs and your men.’

‘You know nothing about war!’

‘And using Burein as fuel was particularly stupid. You know that when it burns it produces the most toxic substances…’

‘That is why it’s a great combustible!’

‘That’s why it is commonly used to destroy hornet’s nests. Where have you found such large amounts of it?’

‘It’s easy: you go in the forest and stab the proper trees.’

‘It’s a good thing you don’t know how to refine it…’

The commandant wasn’t listening anymore, becoming aware of our presence he took his sword form my hands. He sat to examine it and frowned with discontent, seeing the burns. However he didn’t comment but glanced at us to signify that we were no longer required here.

‘I want guymelefs equipped with gas masks,’ he resumed while we were leaving, ‘for all my squad.’

‘They are already under construction; you’ll have to content yourself with them.’

 

‘He seems to have recovered well,’ Shesta said with relief as we were walking in the corridor.

‘Yes but that was close,’ Guimel replied, ‘he remained unconscious more than an hour.’

‘Stop being so concerned about him, it’s not such a big deal,’ Miguel mocked them.

‘It is,’ Dalet corrected, ‘we are in charge of his safety.’

‘I agree that we have to protect him from complots or maybe during a fight but it’s not our job to make sure this brat doesn’t kill himself if he tries to burn the whole city.’ he answered with a shrug.

‘Don’t call him a brat. And what are you implying?’

‘He got what he deserved.’

‘That’s what I thought: you’re too much undisciplined to be a good soldier,’ Dalet stated coldly.

‘Discipline is of no use when you have to survive.’

‘We are not here to survive.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Miguel retorted cynically, ‘I don’t want to die for something as stupid as a war.’

‘If it’s the way you view it, you should better quit.’

‘But how could I go without my dear commandant Dilandau?’ he declaimed caustically, ‘I’m so fond of his beautiful insane red eyes!’

 

At this moment, Dalet did something so much caricatural that I would never have believed even him would do that. He threw his gauntlet at Miguel’s face.

‘Why the hell did you do that?’ the latter asked, catching the glove before it falls, puzzled. He obviously had never heard of the process.

‘He is challenging you to a duel,’ Guimel explained.

‘Uh, really? You nobles are so weird... Alright, I’m in!’ he answered, throwing back the gauntlet at Dalet’s face, thinking that was the way to accept the challenge.

Our comrade put his glove back on with a sigh.

‘You have the choice of weapons,’ he said, trying to keep a solemn tone, ‘you can also select the place and time.’

‘Sword,’ he immediately replied, his sneaky smile reappearing, ‘in the training room, right now.’

Though he had to be very cheeky to defy Dalet on his own ground, I was almost disappointed that he didn’t choose a more fanciful place.

***

‘So to accept the challenge, you have to “take up the gauntlet”,’ Guimel was explaining to Miguel, ‘not throwing it back.’

‘There’s no logic in that…’

‘Such a plebeian like you can’t understand that noblemen settle their disagreements in a civilized manner instead of tussling like animals.’ Dalet retorted, putting all the disdain he could in his voice.

‘I don’t think there is a “civilized manner” to fight.’ Miguel said with a shrug.

‘No wonder why…’ the other started to answer but he had just reached the door of the training room.

Though I wanted to teach that guy a lesson as much as my comrade, I agreed with Miguel’s latest point of view. I don’t know why Dalet was so close to etiquette and to his education at this time –now he seems to have buried his past. Maybe it was a way to discipline himself.

They took place on the track face to face, as Dalet didn’t want to bother explaining the whole protocol. We stood on the side to watch the fight. Since I had met him, I had been persuaded that I would have to fight Miguel someday, in order to bring him back to reality, but my fellow had beaten me to it. Whatever, the result would be the same.

To the left of me Viole was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, quietly watching the course of events. I thought that he was a noble and proud nature, as well as Dalet and I, but to enter commandant Dilandau’s squadron, he had waived his pride, at least on the surface, to become the easy-going fellow he is now.

He made me think of a big cat purring sleepily as long as he wasn’t bothered but ready to turn into a roaring panther anytime. I had learn that his fighting style was quite comparable to the way wildcats hunt: he first measured the strength of his adversary, observing his movements, then suddenly sprang to deal a terrible blow to him, most of the time the final blow.

I thought he probably tried to keep a distance between him and us, at the beginning, because of the loss of his former fellows. Even if he appeared serene most of the time, I knew that the traumatism he had been through had marked him deeply enough to have an impact on his behaviour all his life.

‘So, my Lord, are you ready to get humiliated by a commoner?’ Miguel tried to irritate his opponent.

‘Don’t lose time speaking.’ Dalet retorted with a frown, but he was too smart to let himself be distracted.

‘Why do they have to fight?’ Shesta asked uneasily. He was sitting on my right, hugging his knees, beside Guimel who was standing erect.

‘It’s no big deal,’ I reassured him, ‘you can just see it like training.’

‘But when we train we don’t try to hurt each other…’

I looked at him, shocked.

‘We DO try to hurt each other! That’s why we wear protections!’

He blushed and lowered his head, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’

‘Except if commandant Dilandau orders you to kill someone.’ Guimel pointed out mechanically, making Shesta blush a little more. Apparently he had heard about Miguel and Shesta’s duel.

‘But they don’t wear protections now,’ the boy underlined.

‘It would be meaningless to wear protections for a duel,’ I answered, sounding a bit exasperated.

‘They aren’t going to kill each other,’ Viole stated, still focusing on the fighters.

‘How do you know that?’ Shesta asked doubtfully, raising an eyebrow.

‘Because it’s only about honour and pride. They fight for their convictions, not because of hate. They mean to win, not to kill, and since they are both good swordsmen it will be fine,’ he explained.

As I said earlier, Viole was very skilled to evaluate people’s strength but he was also sensitive to emotions and wills around him.

They started to fight furiously and that was one of the greatest combat I ever attended. Viole and I were delighted by the show and Shesta was beginning to take interest in it when we heard the voice of the commandant: ‘What’s going on? You should be in the refectory.’

‘They are duelling.’ Guimel answered before I could prevent him from talking.

‘Duelling? Why?’ he frowned.

‘Hmm,’ I sounded before my fellow could speak again, ‘Dalet think that Miguel is too much undisciplined…’ I tried to tone down the situation.

‘Really? Uh!’ he exclaimed, folding his arms to watch with us, an unfathomable expression on his face.

Though I was pretty sure to know beforehand who would be the winner, Miguel was showing a lot of patience to make well-thought-out powerful attacks. But his uneven sword-style was no match for Dalet’s coldness who finally cut slightly his skin a heart level.

Miguel frowned, keeping his blade raised.

‘Don’t you know to admit your defeat?’ Dalet asked with disdain.

‘I know when I’m beaten,’ he answered grimly, ‘you’ve won.’

They put their swords back into their sheaths and meanwhile noticed commandant Dilandau’s presence.

‘That is why discipline surpasses instinct,’ the latter said coming to them with a grin, ‘you shouldn’t forget it Miguel!’

I still wonder if he would have said something like ‘That is why instinct surpasses discipline Dalet!’ if Miguel had won. But maybe he knew from the start that he would be beaten, moreover he already required from his soldiers complete orderliness.

‘I won’t forget it anymore.’ he answered, kneeling, and that has been the only time I saw him bow his knee in front of someone.

‘I think it’s time I start training you,’ commandant Dilandau told us, climbing on the track and beckoning to Miguel and Dalet to leave. ‘Shesta, I’m beginning with you. Try to attack me.’

The boy joined him, sheepishly drew his sword and stepped forward too much slowly.

‘Come on! Don’t waste my time!’ the commandant scolded, losing his semblance of good mood.

‘I can’t attack you, commandant Dilandau,’ Shesta moaned.

‘It’s an order, attack me!’

The boy resigned himself and rushed to his superior. He didn’t close his eyes but if he had done so the result would have been the same. He shook his sword randomly, strongly but without any regard for common sense and that was far worse than all he had done during the previous trainings.

After a short time, and much to our relief, the commandant sent his opponent’s blade away.

‘That was very bad Shesta…’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Gatti!’ the commandant shouted at me, ‘did I not ask you to make him a soldier?’

I frowned and took a short time to answer for this was a tough one, I mean: I was scolded because HE couldn’t handle a sword properly?

‘I’m sorry,’ I said flatly, ‘I’m not a good teacher enough to teach him the basis of swordplay, but he is on track to become a great guymelef pilot.’

‘Hmm…’ he turned his disgruntled glance toward Shesta then came back to us, ‘By the way your new guymelefs should be ready soon, it will spice up your trainings! Well, Miguel?’

‘Yes sir?’

‘You are going to train Shesta to sword, Viole, your turn!’

Viole shot an amused glance at his fellow who looked as much disappointed as he could. Was it a punishment or did the commandant ordered it for the sake of the team?

‘Gatti, Dalet, practise instead of looking at us! Guimel is going to be the next.’

We were frustrated not being allowed to watch their fight but while we were training I heard the comments of commandant Dilandau: ‘Be more aggressive!’ Of course he didn’t know about the testing phase of Viole’s technique. Then: ‘Are you really showing me all you got?’ My fellow was used to employ his full strength only in very critical situations; I guess it was dictated by his survival instinct to keep some gas left in the tank.

But Viole must have put his habits aside because the commandant started giggling during their duel, and that was a good thing that he was put in a good mood before training with Guimel.

***

‘ATTACK ME GUIMEL! I ORDER YOU TO ATTACK!’ the commandant was shouting himself hoarse, ‘Well, fine, don’t move, THEN I’LL JUST KILL YOU!’

He raised his sword above the boy, and this gesture trigged the reaction of counterattack Guimel had learnt. The commandant understood very quickly the way his man was working and scowled at me over his shoulder. During the last hours of the afternoon he kept training his last recruit.

At the end of the session he glanced angrily at me and whistled between his teeth: ‘Attack Gatti now!’

I don’t know if the hunger had helped –we hadn’t eaten since the early morning– or if it was only due to our commandant’s skills but Guimel rushed at me, the same absent gaze in his eyes as usually, unsheathing his sword in a flash. I narrowly dodged him and then knocked him down.

‘Luckily you are a better fighter than a teacher…’ commandant Dilandau commented with a satisfied rictus.

 

During the dinner, the news of an imminent battle was spreading amongst the tables, spilling waves of excitement in the refectory, and before the end of my meal I was called to receive a message from military high command. I delivered the missive to commandant Dilandau then gathered my comrades to read them the new message he had dictated to me: ‘Be ready at 3 o’clock tomorrow morning on the boarding area.’

‘That’s all?’ they chorused, disappointed.

I knew the whole matter since I had read the original paper and I judged it was better if they were fully aware of their mission.

‘Different squadrons are mobilized to lead an assault in order to annihilate Toruan’s rebels, and we are part of them.’ I recapped, ‘We will have to use “bird cloaks”, so we should learn more about their utilization instead of sleeping tonight. Don’t ask me what it is, I have no idea. I only know it is one of Folken’s inventions.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration -> https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM10-788750957 ;)


	11. Nocturnal attack

‘Can you explain what is the point in jumping with those backpacks? Well, those bird-things.’ Miguel asked sarcastically.

We were aboard a ship, flying over the rebel’s positions in mountains surrounded by a huge plain. The night was very clear so it was an undeniable advantage that our vessels were invisible.

‘They are supposed to prevent us from killing ourselves when landing.’ I replied in the same tone.

‘Erf! If Folken wants to try it he can. For my part I far prefer to have my two feet on solid ground.’ he groaned.

‘Sure!’ Viole agreed, ‘What is this way of attacking? Can’t we just beat them cleanly in the traditional way?’

‘Those are the orders. It will be a test for new battle tactics, because emperor Dornkirk wants Zaibach to be a modern country,’ I explained.

‘Hey, Miguel, I wanted to ask you, how does it sound to fight against your former comrades?’ Dalet inquired suddenly.

‘You know, I’ve been in a lot of armies before Toruan,’ he retorted quietly, ‘Cannon fodder is a product very much in demand,’ he added, smiling cruelly.

‘Time to jump, kids!’ the captain shouted at us through the loudspeaker.

‘What about commandant Dilandau?’ Shesta questioned, ‘Will he have to jump too?’

‘No the officers are going to supervise the workflows from another spot.’

‘I see how it’s a “modern tactic”…’

Viole was the most reluctant to drop into the empty space so he went first, in a hurry to get this over with.

‘Is that guy in a hurry to die?’ Miguel commented ironically.

‘Your turn.’

‘I’m going, I’m going, don’t rush me.’

After him, I pushed Guimel but I wouldn’t swear that he noticed he was falling. I followed Shesta and let Dalet bring up the rear.

The free falling didn’t last long before my bag unfolded, shaping a wing-like clothe canopy which slowed me down. All around us other soldiers were following the same way, drifting like dandelion’s seeds.

All of a sudden, a volley off arrows reached the men the closest to the ground.

‘They are waiting for us!’ I yelled, ‘Cut some ropes!’ I added since we were unable to control neither our speed nor our trajectory.

I did it myself, keeping only enough strings not to crash. It was a rough landing, yet, but I didn’t get severely injured and it was better than being riddled with spires. During the last seconds before the touchdown I had seen an arrow about to hit Miguel but I didn’t know if he was wounded. Above me there was no trace of my fellows so I guessed they had followed my advice.

‘They are surrounding us!’ I heard someone screaming from the distance but I couldn’t see him because of the thick forest, ‘Go in the plain to break their clutch!’

I saw silhouettes of men running in all directions but instead of looking for the edge of the wood I climbed higher. From what I could have seen, the shooters were all located in the same point, so if I could destroy their weapons it would avoid losing other soldiers in the air.

Of course there were soldiers armed with swords and spears to protect the archers but fortunately Viole had had the same idea as me. He cut the bows into pieces while I was distracting the infantrymen.

Another Zaibach’s soldier belonging to another squad arrived, holding a torch. He gave us a hand to defeat the group of rebels, and then he said, panting: ‘We are setting the woods on fire so that the reb’s can’t seek refuge inside.’

‘I have to help Dalet,’ Viole told me, ‘he is looking for Miguel who is injured but he won’t be able to save him alone.’

‘Fine, but head to the plain as soon as you find him,’ I replied.

***

Miguel was lying, his back against a sharp rock, in a cave. His shelter quaked at each blow of the war above him and from time to time a stone was falling from the ceiling.

‘If I stay here I’ll get crushed, but if I crawl outside I’ll get killed in a minute,’ he reflected, looking at the blood running all over his body.

A silhouette appeared in front of him.

‘Friend or enemy?’ he wondered.

‘You look badly wounded,’ Dalet observed, ‘maybe I should put you out of your misery,’ he added, raising his sword above Miguel.

‘Wait!’ he faintly screamed, shrinking, ‘you are still angry with me?’

He tried to recede from Dalet as the boy was bending over him. But his comrade only cut the sword belt which was pressing his wound and his abdomen. Miguel released a sigh, relieved and breathing easier.

‘You really thought I would be low enough to slay a man already lying on the floor?’ Dalet asked, sounding a little upset, ‘I was just kidding.’

‘I didn’t know you could do that, I thought you were too much uptight.’

‘I’m willing to save you so don’t make me change my mind.’ he growled, ‘first I’ll get you out of here before it crumbles down.’

He put his shoulder against Miguel’s stomach.

‘Hold on!’ he said, lifting him on his back.

He felt the blood spreading through his uniform, but the injured one didn’t complain.

‘Viole! Can we go out now?’

‘Yes, I clear you a path!’ the young man answered from outside.

Miguel felt the daylight on his eyelids and heard the sounds of blades hitting other blades or cutting flesh. A while later he was put down on the ground.

‘We let him with you’ he heard Viole say, and then two pairs of feet went away.

‘Should we tend him now?’ Shesta asked, ‘I've already seen someone sewing back up a wound with a string and a needle, I could try.’

‘Please, don’t let him go near me!’ Miguel begged, and I truly don’t know if he was still jesting or if he was really scared. Maybe both.

‘I heard that lemon juice was good to heal wounds,’ Guimel added.

‘He… help!’ our fellow whispered, hoping that he was not alone with the two boys, ‘What do you think I am? Fish?’

‘Relax, we haven’t got needle nor lemon here,’ I said. ‘Let’s just bandage him and go back to fight.’

‘I can do that,’ Shesta answered, ripping Miguel’s shirt.

‘Alright,’ I said after he had finished, ‘we won’t go far, just play dead, don’t move and it will be ok.’

‘I hardly see how I could move.’ he moaned.

‘”Play dead” means you mustn’t talk.’ I clarified.

 

Back again at war, I sliced all the enemies who stood in front of me, one after another. But there was a time there wasn’t enemy anymore. I took a look toward Miguel.

He was gone.

That dummy had managed to fly away in spite of his wounds. His trace wasn’t hard to follow, though, since he had spread his blood all along his way.

I eventually found him on the hill from where the officers were watching the combats. From far away, I saw that commandant Dilandau was fighting against a bunch of rebels. I arrived right at the time when the last man was attacking him from behind, but Miguel, jumping like a bunny, slew the assailant.

The commandant turned his head, saw his subordinate kneeling and the dead rebel, and frowned, disgruntled to learn that he had been protected.

‘Why are you coming here Gatti?’ he asked when he saw me, ‘Is the fight already over?’

‘I think so; the rebels are all dead or have escaped.’

‘Make me come for such a ridiculous battle!’ he complained. ‘Bring back the others.’

But they were already going up the hill.

‘Come on Miguel, I’m taking you to the sickbay.’ I said, carrying him in my arms.

‘Thank you Gatti, you’re such a good mom to me,’ he whistled, grinning.

‘Dammit, he is really unable to stop joking around?’ I thought inward, ‘He is at death’s door!’

But he didn’t make a single noise during all the time the doctor was stitching him up, only gritting his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A colour illustration for this chapter: https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM11-800511554
> 
> It's not exactly described in the chapter but I like the idea to do illustrations that add details to the story (which is the case here) or that give hints about the rest of the story (which is not the case)
> 
> Next chapter coming soon! Thank you for reading :)


	12. Traitor

Our comrades entered the tent and made a circle around Miguel’s cot as soon as the medic left him.

‘Uh Miguel, I just remember,’ Guimel said dreamily, ‘lemon juice is used to repel mosquitoes but it’s not good at all for wounds. You’re lucky I didn’t have it on hand just before.’

‘Don’t you dare come near me, Fluffy!’ he threatened, but a smile was tickling one corner of his mouth.

We heard raised voices from outside and suddenly commandant Dilandau and another officer burst into the pavilion, followed by two soldiers.

‘For what I care!’ our commandant was roaring, ‘if there is a traitor, it’s not my business to catch him!’

‘Except if he is one of you men!’ the other retorted.

‘What?’ he said, quieter but way more ominous.

‘This man is a former soldier from Toruan!’ the officer stated, pointing at Miguel, ‘we can’t trust him and he is our main suspect.’

‘THERE IS NO TRAITOR IN MY SQUADRON!’

‘We’ll see that after the investigation.’

The commandant seemed to be unable to speak for a while, strangled by his anger.

‘We haven’t even a proof that there is actually a recreant in our ranks,’ he finally pointed.

‘The rebels were waiting for an air attack so they necessarily had an informer. If your soldier is innocent he has nothing to fear.’ the impassive man said snidely.

Commandant Dilandau shot a glance toward his disabled man, shrugged and left the infirmary.

‘Take him,’ the officer ordered to his followers.

At this time we couldn’t do better than letting him go, anyway he didn’t expect us to react, and he looked more bored by the matter than worried.

 

I know I stray from my mark but this incident entailed a radical change in Miguel’s behaviour so I think I have to recount it here.

***

‘Aren’t they going to treat him harshly?’ Shesta asked, ‘he’s already wounded…’

‘It’s okay, he’s not that weak,’ Viole replied absentmindedly.

‘The question should be, is he really a traitor?’ I rectified.

‘I don’t think he is that kind of guy,’ Dalet defended him.

‘Yeah, as hard as I try I can’t remember a moment he could have given information to our enemies,’ I added, more pragmatic.

We fell silent as the door of the cabin opened to let commandant Dialndau come in.

‘We are landing soon,’ he said, and we couldn’t read anything on his face.

 

A moment later, we were meeting Folken in his office.

‘See where your amateur tactics lead us?’ commandant Dilandau blamed him, ‘We were five times as many as them, and we could have wrecked them in less than an hour without your stupid bird cloaks!’ he added, formulating my thoughts. ‘We have flying guymelefs!’

‘There is only one guymelef able to fly in Zaibach currently. It’s yours,’ the general answered.

‘And to dare to claim that my men are traitors!’ the commandant fulminated without listening to him, ‘I hope you’re going to fix this!’

‘There is nothing I can do for your soldier. I’m a strategist so I’m not able to interfere with court martial.’

The commandant clenched his hands into fists, and then yelled at us to go to train. We promptly obeyed and I guess they kept quarrelling after we left –well, commandant Dilandau was probably shouting at Folken who replied imperturbably.

 

After diner, we decided to visit Miguel as there was no law against it. We weren’t sure our superior would appreciate if he learnt it but we didn’t discuss the question.

On the road we came across Folken who stopped to talk to us.

‘You are going to visit your comrade?’ he questioned.

‘What does it matter to him?’ I wondered, nodding.

‘You have to be careful,’ he told us, ‘if you try to speak in his favour you’ll get in troubles too. It’s useless to give the court martial more culprits than it needs.’

‘Thank you for your advice general Folken,’ I answered hypocritically.

I felt that my insincerity didn’t get past him, as his dark red eyes were scrutinizing my face. That man always looked at people as human beings, even simple servants or soldiers, and I found that glance indecent, a glance that took off one by one the pieces of the armour I had built around me, to read the emotions and minds deeply buried inside.

I escaped his gaze and I took leave of him, disgruntled by the impression he had made on me.

 

Sure the guards weren’t happy to let us get in, since they knew it could only bring them troubles. However they hadn’t received explicit orders forbidding the entrance and I pointedly reminded them that their prisoner was one of Dilandau Albatou’s men.

‘Oh it’s you guys?’ Miguel seemed disappointed, ‘I’d prefer some female company to brighten that jail…’

I roughly caught him by his collar and slammed him up against the bars.

‘Don’t you realise in what mess you are?’ I spat, almost touching his nose with mine.

‘Easy Gatti,’ Dalet tried to sooth me, ‘he is still injured and it won’t help if you stun him.’

‘His dishonour falls upon all the squad, particularly upon the one who chose him! And all he can come up with is making tacky jokes!’ I screamed, releasing my grip to turn to him.

‘And what else I’m supposed to do?’ Miguel retorted, turning serious, ‘I will be executed soon.’

‘Yes but before that you will be judged, so the best we can do is trying to find evidences of your innocence,’ I explained.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘So you think I’m not guilty?’ he underlined sneakily, ‘I thought you were less naïve than that…’

‘Stop playing hard, we know you can’t have betrayed Zaibach,’ I replied, annoyed by his game, but meanwhile I realised he had no reason to trust us. ‘The officers have to find a culprit to justify the casualties we underwent despite high numerical superiority, and you are the fall guy.’ I added to explain that we were on his side.

‘But it’s unfair!’ Shesta let slip ingenuously.

Miguel looked surprised, ‘No, it’s perfectly logic. As I’m a stranger and there is nothing that may exonerate me, I’m the ideal culprit.’

‘You don’t even know what fairness means, right?’ Viole noted imperceptibly.

‘That’s not true,’ Dalet contradicted Miguel, ‘the only moment you weren’t with us was when we were searching Guimel but it wasn’t long enough for you to learn about the battle and to transmit the information. Moreover you had no way to know about the new tactic and it wasn’t decided yet.’

‘So this looks good,’ Shesta resumed, ‘we will testify for you.’

‘Hey, hey, don’t get carried away, brat,’ Miguel retorted, ‘you come from Toruan too, remember? Even if you were a simple farmer, you’d better not draw attention to yourself, unless you want to keep me company on the scaffold.’

‘He has a point,’ Viole admitted, ‘our testimony is not evidence: we are only rankers and we are his comrades.’

‘So there is nothing we can do?’ Guimel insisted.

‘Nope, just stay away from me,’ Miguel answered darkly.

‘Don’t let yourself go,’ Dalet told him, ‘Try to find something that could prove your innocence instead of being down in the dumps.’

‘I’m not despondent. I have to die somehow or other and since I’m too clever to be killed on a battlefield, this sounds the proper way for me to kick the bucket.’

This last sentence left us in a gloomy silence. I had expected a lot of different reactions from that guy but not this lazy detachment to life.

 

The next morning, commandant Dilandau came to fetch me in the training room. I followed him in the building where Miguel was confined, but instead of heading to the basement we went upstairs. We entered a small room with a table. My fellow was sitting in front of us, and two officers were interrogating him, turning their back to us. One of them turned his head to us and I recognized the man we had met in the tent.

‘So you’ve come,’ he said, frowning at the commandant.

‘Yes, colonel Rehil, it’s my duty to witness this interrogation,’ commandant Dilandau answered, crossing his arms.

‘You have the right to do so, but you aren’t allowed to intervene,’ the other reminded him.

Then he went back to the young man, asking procedural questions.

‘Name?’

‘Miguel.’

‘Miguel what?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know your name?’ the other officer inquired, raising his head from his papers, ‘here it is written that you are Miguel Lavariel.’

‘I’ve got a name?’ the boy asked incredulous.

‘He can’t know it,’ commandant Dilandau explained negligently, ‘I made up this name to fill out the forms required to hire him.’

‘I’ve got a name?’ Miguel asked again.

‘Silence!’ the colonel yelled, ‘I told you not to interfere!’

‘You were hired about a month ago,’ his colleague resumed, ‘what were you doing before?’

‘What does it matter to you?’ he grumbled.

‘Pardon?’

‘I said, you have to be more specific.’

‘Just before entering Zaibach army.’ the colonel replied impatiently.

‘I was in Toruan army.’

‘How long?’

‘Uh, around a year I think.’

‘And before?’

‘Well, I’ll tell you the whole thing,’ Miguel got impatient too, because he didn’t like formalities, ‘I have fought for the country Geroa, for Seils, and before with Helion’s army but before, I was with the rebels against Helion…’ he enumerated, counting on his fingers, without showing any emotion except boredom.

‘That’s all?’ the colonel asked heartlessly.

‘No, before, I was with another army. I remember we wore brown uniforms but I don’t recall the name, since I was around five years old…’ he replied with a crooked smile.

Something was painfully wiggling in my chest as I was listening to him and imagining the child in the horror of the war. His interviewers, though, didn’t seemed affected the slightest bit and the commandant’s face was impenetrable.

‘You are charged with a crime of treason, specifically to have provided information about the operation on the Latries Hills to the Toruan rebels.’

‘So you think that I’m stupid enough to tell the rebels to wait for the soldiers coming from the air and to jump with my comrades so that they can shoot me with arrows?’

‘We are not judging your mind. We are only establishing the facts.’

‘One of the facts is that I have been wounded in this battle,’ Miguel pointed out.

‘It’s not a wound made by an arrow,’ the colonel noticed.

‘Of course it isn’t, they waited for those who had been hurt in the air in order to finish them off.’

‘But you’re still alive…’

‘Moreover you could have done this injury to yourself,’ the officer added.

The young man opened his mouth to answer, appalled by their incredible bad faith but he gave up the idea, scowling at them with anger.

‘Well, if you have nothing else to say in your defence…’

‘How could have I learnt about the operation? We didn’t know we would have to leap into the void before boarding the vessel.’

‘Can you prove that you didn’t know about the plan?’ the officer asked, feigning interest.

Commandant Dilandau snickered, and a look toward him informed me that he actually took pleasure in this senseless interview.

‘We know you can’t have done this alone,’ the colonel stated, ignoring him, ‘the court will be more indulgent if you accept to give the names of your accomplices.’

Miguel gritted his teeth, realising he had fallen into their trap, and I myself was irritated to have to admit that Folken was right.

‘I’m not guilty so I don’t have accomplice,’ he replied firmly.

‘Come on Miguel,’ the officer said smoothly, ‘keep silent will put you in deeper troubles.’

‘Why do they want names now?’ I wondered, ‘I thought they just wanted a liable for the rout during the battle.’

Leaning against the back of his chair, the youngster seemed to have left, remaining absent in a highly convincing imitation of Guimel’s gaze.

***

Commandant Dilandau and I then went to another room, where jurors were gathered to debate the case.

‘General Adelphos is not here?’ the commandant inquired.

‘No, he won’t come for such a small thing,’ someone answered.

My superior got quickly tired of listening to this mob, so we left during the trial –a trial the suspect didn’t even witness. We took a few steps in the yard, but then he stopped abruptly.

‘Gatti, what do you think of this judgement?’ he asked with a slight trace of mischief, ‘Do you believe Miguel has a chance to cope?’

‘It is nonsense,’ I replied, hesitating to speak openly, ‘no one in this court care about the truth so it’s like he is already sentenced.’

‘You’re right,’ the commandant laughed, ‘even I don’t care if he is a traitor!’

‘Uh, really?’

‘Hmm, he can betray the whole world, as long as he remains loyal to me.’

I was wondering how in his mind his men could be faithful to him meanwhile betraying Zaibach army but he interrupted my thoughts: ‘I have some business to do out of the city, so keep training your comrades and don’t attend to Miguel.’

 

I found the others in the training room inspecting a bunch of blue, awesome giants.

‘Don’t look so glum, Shesta,’ Dalet was saying, ‘watch those majestic armours! Feeling bad about him won’t help Miguel so we should better train.’

‘He’s right,’ I approved, ‘we mustn’t bother about him anymore. Those are the orders, so climb in your guymelef.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Viole held me back, ‘we should read the manual before, because they are far more complex than the old ones. For example it is written that they’ve got invisibility abilities…’

‘Ouh, that looks interesting!’ Dalet got excited.

‘What about the weapons?’ I inquired.

‘Apparently they are mind-shaped,’ he read, ‘how is it possible?’

‘Like this?’ Guimel asked, putting a huge scythe-like blade under Viole’s nose.

‘Whaa Guimel! You can already control it?’

‘They are handier than the formers.’

They were indeed but we weren’t able to deal with them as well as the boy, since the subtleties of liquid metal were totally new for us.

 

In the end of the afternoon, I recounted the beginning of the trial to them.

‘So the commandant has given up on him?’ they asked.

‘I don’t think so. He must have something in mind. He just wants to make sure we won’t put Miguel or ourselves in deeper troubles and that we won’t get distracted from our training.’

 

In the early evening, the news of the death sentence was brought to us. It was a message to commandant Dilandau but as he wasn’t there I received it instead. However the investigation wasn’t over, on the pretext of thwarting the whole plot.

‘It went faster than I thought,’ I whispered, breaking the heavy silence.

‘It sounds awful,’ Viole moaned, ‘if the commandant doesn’t come back soon enough, then we…’

‘Then what?’ I asked with irritation.

‘I don’t wanna let him die. I don’t care if I become a traitor for Zaibach,’ Shesta muttered.

‘He’s one of Commandant Dilandau’s men,’ Viole added, ‘we have to do something.’

‘Miguel doesn’t deserve to die,’ Guimel stated.

I looked daggers at them.

‘So that’s it?’ I groaned, ‘you are such pathetic squirts, panicked at the only thought of death!’

‘How can you be so heartless?’ Shesta shrieked faintly, looking shocked.

‘I don’t like to say it but Gatti is right,’ Dalet said, smiling at the sight of their dismayed faces, ‘if our commandant wants to save him, then we would be pitiful soldiers if we were unable to trust in his success. And if he wants to abandon Miguel, then –even if I’m sorry about that– it will be his fate.’

 

The rest of the evening passed gloomily, in the waiting of new orders or anything that could distract us from our dark thoughts. I had no idea where the commandant had gone, neither how long his absence would last.

We were going round in circles in the dormitory when a red spot flying in the sky caught my attention. I went in the hall to welcome commandant Dilandau, without knowing if I should feel relieved or worried.

‘You are still awake Gatti?’ he asked with the annoyed tone he reserved for me, ‘Fine, so you’ll be able to take this letter to the jail. Now.’

I obeyed, and casted a glance at the paper on the way. It wasn’t even put in an envelope and I couldn’t help but read it. It was an official reprieve for Miguel, signed by general Adelphos. It also expressly commanded the cessation of any investigation within the headquarters about the rout of the last battle. I cannot be sure about the way commandant Dilandau obtained it, but I supposed that he badgered the general until he gave up and acceded to his request. Anyway, Miguel’s life or death didn’t mean anything to him, neither the need to find a traitor.

 

When I came back a while latter, I was glad to see that the commandant’s window was still lit up: at least I wouldn’t have to wake him up in order to tell him something he would certainly not appreciate.

‘Please forgive me, sir. I couldn’t deliver the message,’ I apologized, ‘they refused to open the door.’

In answer I received a stinging slap.

‘I can only count on myself,’ he growled, ‘give it to me.’

‘I don’t have it anymore, sir. General Folken was here and as he had something to do inside, he took the letter and promised he would get Miguel released.’

This time it was a punch, but henceforth I was used to take those and to keep standing. Then I followed commandant Dilandau to the jail where he found the door closed and he spent half an hour screaming and hammering on it. In the end I convinced him to go back to our quarters and to wait and see what would happen.

 

The next day we trained as usually. We didn’t get any news from the court and the commandant didn’t say a word about it. He didn’t even try to go back to the courthouse or to send any messenger, preferring taking charge of our training.

At nightfall, as we were going back to our quarters after diner, we heard the voice of the general coming from the entrance hall: ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get your soldier out of there earlier.’

He was talking to the commandant, and behind him one of his men was carrying Miguel in his arms. I first thought he was dead, but then I noticed he was mumbling unconsciously. The traces on his skin and the slight bleeding of his former wound hastily bandaged proved he had been tortured.

Folken waved to his soldier to take him to infirmary and we followed him, preceded by the commandant who was displaying a puzzling pout.

‘Wake him up,’ the latter ordered me after Miguel was put in a cot.

I leant above the young man and doing so I understood some words he was muttering: ‘You’ll pay it. I’ll kill all of you…’

I shook his shoulder and called his name even if I wasn’t sure it was the more efficient way. He finally opened hazy eyes, wondering where he was, but the sight of commandant Dilandau seemed to finish awakening him.

‘Who did that to you?’ our superior asked imperiously.

‘Men with black cloaks, like Pharoe,’ he whispered. Obviously he was exhausted physically and mentally but seeing our faces appeased him.

‘There are sorcerers even here in headquarters?’ I exclaimed, feeling uneasy at this thought.

‘Why?’ the commandant inquired, ‘What did they want? Names?’

‘They wanted me to lay the responsibility of the whole plot on you, commandant.’ he said, frowning. ‘But I told them to ask my a… my behind, let’s say.’

‘So that’s why the general couldn’t secure his release,’ Dalet reasoned, ‘they wanted to make him talk before he escapes them.’

Miguel nodded: ‘apparently your promotion has inflamed the jealousy among officers and even high-ranking civilians, just like for Folken. So now they are on the lookout for any opportunity to put you in trouble.’

‘General Folken,’ the commandant corrected with a twitch.

He himself uses the word “general” only ironically when he is addressing Folken, habitually calling him by his name alone or “strategos”. But of course we have to show more deference. Some would say it’s because other way it would mean we think that we are equals. I personally believe it’s only about discipline. His alienated way of thinking requires perfect scheduling in other people behaviour, which maybe puts him at ease or reassures him. Paradoxically I had the feeling that Miguel’s irreverence pleased and entertained him or perhaps it was due to their likeness. 

‘So colonel Rehil intends to cause me harm?’ he mused.

‘No, not him. He was really looking for the traitor; he is fully devoted to Zaibach,’ his man replied, sounding like if he was thinking the colonel’s zeal was risible or despicable.

Then commandant Dilandau left us, a disgruntled expression on his face but I think he was mad at his enemies.

If there was actually a traitor in Zaibach Empire, I never learnt but I couldn’t care less. Of course there were plenty of persons who held grudges against the regime but I don’t think that any of them had enough guts to act.

‘What have they done to you?’ Shesta asked, ‘you don’t seem seriously injured…’

‘The sorcerers have a reputation for being the worse torturers,’ I answered in place of Miguel, who had closed his eyes. ‘They know to find every nerve a human body can contain, among others. It is said that most of the people who fall into their hands go crazy.’

‘With Miguel we won’t see any difference…’

‘I have to say, I’m surprised you have borne it,’ Dalet said with an impish smile, ‘I thought your only goal was surviving…’

‘Yes, but I wanted to know what it’s like to be loyal to someone,’ Miguel answered looking up to him.

‘And?’

‘It hurts,’ he said, referring to the torture, ‘but otherwise it’s fine. I’ll do it again.’ His sentence ended in a sigh and we remembered that he needed to rest.

As we were silently leaving the room, Dalet stayed back and patted Miguel’s head before joining us. This gesture was even more unexpected than the gauntlet thing and it took me some time to accept and understand this change in my comrade’s demeanour and way of thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration on DeviantArt-> https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM12-800558514  
> Thanks for reading!


	13. Memories

The following night, Miguel had recovered well enough to go back to our dormitory. But that same night, I was awakened by faint screams and I instinctively drew my sword, which I always keep handy. I paused to find the origin of danger and heard Viole whispering soothing words to Guimel.

I sheathed my blade and jumped off my bed, falling on Miguel who was getting up just at that very moment. I felt the harsh shock against the floor when I flattened him like a pancake, and before I could pick myself up Dalet lit a torch.

‘What exactly you guys are doing?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘Sorry dude,’ I muttered to Miguel, getting back on my feet.

He mumbled something about air attacks and joined the circle around Guimel’s bed, cracking his backbone.

The boy was sitting on his bed, as white as his sheet, wide open eyes, shivering and unable to keep his teeth from chattering in spite of the thick blanket Viole was holding tightly round him.

‘What is it?’ I asked, ‘Guimel, can you hear me?’

‘Maybe we should take him to the infirmary?’ Shesta wondered aloud as our comrade didn’t answer.

‘No, the nurses would only give him sleeping pills,’ Viole replied tiredly.

‘But he looks so bad…’

‘It’s not his body which is sick, it’s inside his head. If we put him to sleep he will lose his fight. Even if it’s painful he has to go through it.’

‘What do you mean by “inside his head”?’ Miguel got irritated. He grasped Guimel’s arm and shook him: ‘hey, Fluffy! Answer me.’

Still trembling and staring into space, the boy started to whine and to pant.

‘Let him be Miguel, you worsen the situation.’

‘So what? You prefer to just let him like this and go back to sleep?’

‘Yes,’ Viole answered firmly, ‘except giving him another cover we can’t help him.’ Saying so, he went to fetch one, wrapped again Guimel in his own blanket and used the other to tuck him in so that he wouldn’t fall off his bed.

 

On the morning we found him very much like we had left him, but he was no longer shivering and he sat up when we called him.

‘Do you see us?’ I asked as his huge round eyes seemed blind.

He shook his head negatively and gritted his teeth.

‘Guimel, what do you see?’ Viole questioned with a soothe tone.

The boy let out a whine and started shivering and shaking his head again.

‘You should try to tell us,’ his fellow insisted, ‘otherwise you will remain stuck at this moment. It is a memory that you see, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ he murmured in a plaintive voice, ‘something horrible.’

‘Do you hear something?’ Dalet encouraged him.

He nodded and gasped. ‘I’m in a wooden house. She screams… Through the window it’s a white landscape, the door is opened and there are men bursting into the room. This woman…’ his voice broke.

‘Those men, how they look?’

‘They wear weapons, they look angry, they yell; I think they insult her. They don’t pay attention to me but they say “Filthy whore! Witches like you only deserve death.”’

‘And the woman how is she?’

‘I can’t see her, she is behind me but… but she calls my name, she screams “help me Guimel! Please, they will kill me!’ she seems terrified but I…’ his voice almost died and then restarted in a shrill shriek ‘I don’t move!’

He paused, then added: ‘she also calls another name, “Aira, run away!”. And there are awful sounds… she stops screaming.’

He fell silent but his eyes were still moving swiftly and we understood what Viole meant by “staying stuck there”: the scene was starting again in his head. He had struggled all night long to organise the fragments of memories and now was looking for a meaning.

‘Now I have a glimmering of the reason why you didn’t fight back when Kolg’s men attacked you,’ Viole said kindly, sitting next to him on the cot. ‘The fact that they were after me woke up your memories.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Miguel asked.

‘Because he feels guilty not having protected that woman, he sort of punished himself, I think.’

‘Can one feel guilty for something he hasn’t done?’ Guimel inquired, looking more conscious than ever.

‘Of course. And the reason you can’t move on is that you don’t understand why you didn’t do anything to help her. Am I wrong?’

‘No, but I don’t even know who is she.’

‘Hmm, what is your older memory, except this one?’

‘It’s when I started to escort conveys with Sargass, around three years ago.’

‘It’s very recent! This must mean that you have been through something so dreadful that you forgot everything,’ Viole whispered thoughtfully. ‘But the altercation with Kolg has resurfaced those memories. So now I think you should try to remember everything and to go ahead.’

‘So it’s a traumatism? I thought he was born crazy…’ Miguel commented bluntly.

‘He is certainly different, but I would say it has no link with his blank out, though his recurrent memory lapses are probably due to the way his brain is made.’

Guimel was so pale and weak because of this sleepless night that we resolved to let him rest. The problem was to formulate it in a way commandant Dilandau wouldn’t think we took the liberty to allow him a leave.

***

‘I would like to ask the permission to let Guimel rest today. He is healing.’ I explained to the commandant when we got to the training room.

He didn’t seem to hear me, although I was sure he was listening.

‘You’ll have to train alone this morning. I have to go to the court,’ he replied, ignoring my speech and jubilating at the thought of facing his enemies.

Before I could warn him he was already at the end of the corridor, yelling after Folken.

 

He came back around noon, and I judged by the sparks in his eyes that he had had fun out there. Since he couldn’t find who exactly was against him he had threatened the whole bunch of officers and scientists, and inspiring fear was something he excelled in, to such a point that one could call it art.

 

When we went back to the dormitory, we found Guimel asleep in his bed. He hadn’t appeared during supper and we didn’t dare to wake him up. We settled in the vestibule to play a card game with a pack Miguel had found who knows where, but he left right after having given it to us.

‘Guimel, you’re awake!’ Shesta exclaimed suddenly, making me lift my head and peer above my game. ‘How are you?’

The boy rubbed his eyes and tried to get off his bed but his legs were still too weak and he would have fallen if Shesta and Viole hadn’t been swift enough. They made him sit down on Viole’s bed, trying to obtain an answer.

‘I… I’m okay,’ he said, rolling his dreamy eyes.

‘Oh! You have finally woken up, fluffy-head?’ Miguel said, bursting in the room. He looked over his shoulder like if he feared that he was followed, then headed to Guimel and pulled a jar of jam from his jacket.

‘Here, since you never come at the refectory… and you must be hungry,’ he added, giving it to the boy.

‘You should stop this war with the cooks,’ I observed, ‘it is never good to make the ones who feed you mad at you.’

Despite what I was saying, I was surprised by the kindness of that cynical guy. But Miguel wasn’t fond of good food –although he used to eat a lot– so he took more pleasure in seeing someone else enjoying what he had stolen than eating it himself.

‘Jam!’ Guimel exclaimed gaily, ‘I have eaten some before.’

‘Where would you have eaten jam?’ Viole asked, either because he himself had never seen this before he entered the army, or because he hoped it would help the boy recalling his past.

‘Don’t remember,’ he answered as we could expect, swallowing the mixture and putting as many fingers as he could in the pot.

Miguel seemed satisfied of his appetite. He was staring at him, his elbows leaning on the grid at the bottom of the bed, his head propped up on both hands.

‘Now that you are feeling better, I think it’s time to prowl.’

‘What is this?’ Guimel asked, licking his fingertips.

‘Cannot explain, you have to experiment it by yourself to understand,’ Miguel replied with a mysterious smile.

‘He probably means to hang out in the streets and make fuss by fighting with drunkards…’ I said ironically.

‘Nah, drunken men are not very good at brawl… You have to fight first, and then you drink. Come on guys, let’s go!’ he said, already at the door.

‘You know that you have less than one hour before curfew, right?’ I warned him.

‘Jeez, Gatti don’t be so strict!’ he retorted, annoyed.

‘Just be back in time.’

‘What if I don’t? You’ll be the one in trouble if you can’t command respect. You would snitch on us?’

‘No, I would fetch you by the scruff of the neck.’

‘I would like to see that…’ he provoked me.

‘Don’t talk that much,’ Dalet intervened.

He was prepared to go out, as well as Viole, Shesta and Guimel.

Though I should probably have kept an eye on them, I stayed in our quarters to work. Indeed, commandant Dilandau had noted that I had skills to fill in paperwork and to write reports that his superiors wouldn’t throw back at his face. But here follows Dalet’s version of the night’s events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration for this chapter -> https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM13-801171776
> 
> Thanks for reading


	14. Night prowling

The boys all agreed that going to the Bloand was a bad idea, –given Viole’s acquaintances there– thus they hanged out in a district to the east of headquarters. This was a residential area, lifeless and seized by a loud silence. They walked during half an hour then were back at the base, disappointed.

Not far from the east entrance, there was a high wire fence through which the children of the surroundings used to insult us, to ask for being enlisted in the army or to sell us fruits. That night, a bunch of kids had managed to break through the wire mesh by a hole, and were wrangling with young soldiers.

‘Don’t treat us like brats, we are ready to become soldiers!’ the boys were complaining.

They looked like wild cats, dirty and skinny, screaming loudly with high-pitched voices. The white skin of their faces was pierced by their dark doll-like eyes.

Most of the soldiers were making fun of them, telling them to go back to their moms, but suddenly a guy picked up pebbles and furiously threw them on the kids to make them leave.

‘Go away morons! Do you really think little snots like you can survive at war?’

‘What do you think you are doing?’ Viole shouted angrily at him, heading straight to the mob. However he was stopped by the other soldiers.

‘How can you lash out at children?’ Shesta exclaimed indignantly.

‘Who are those guys, anyway?’ Miguel asked.

‘They must belong to one of the squadrons which took part in the military campaigns against the four empires’ Dalet reflected, examining their torn clothes, covered with dust and blood, and their gaunt faces. He judged they were three or four years older than him. ‘I heard they have just returned today. It was the more murderous war for Zaibach this year, a real massacre. Even the main officer on the battlefield was killed.’

Shunning the stones, the turbulent band hurried to the breach except a boy who proudly stood up in front of the man who attacked them. Before he could even talk he was caught by his collar and lifted up in the air.

‘Let me go bastard!’ he yelled ‘I’m gonna kick your ass!’

‘Don’t you understand you’d better stay away from here?’ the soldier frowned. He was a very tall guy with fair hair curling on his forehead and hiding his left eye.

The cheeky young imp spat in his face then said ‘I will become the best warrior of Zaibach, it’s not a looser like you who will prevent me from going to war.’

‘YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT WAR IS LIKE!’ the young man roared, losing again his temper.

All of a sudden he shook his head to move aside his strand of hair and reveal his lacerated eye. In the same time he ripped his shirt and the bandages beneath with his free hand, and put the head of the child almost against the bleeding scar roughly stitched that crossed his chest.

‘This is war, dammit! And that’s the cool part!’

The boy gulped and turned very pale.

‘I’m not afraid of getting injured,’ he retorted, keeping his composure and restraining his voice from trembling.

There was a pause, and then the soldier said in the coldest tone Dalet had ever heard: ‘In that case I should better kill you right now.’

This last sentence utterly freaked out the kid who escaped the fist, leaving a piece of his shirt in it, and ran away through the fence, followed by the laughs of the rankers.

‘It’s not like you to be so brutal with a kid…’ one of the blond guy’s comrades pointed out.

He didn’t answer, trying to calm down. He had clenched his hands into fists and his cheeks had reddened with anger.

‘Is it because he has reminded you of yourself when you were a child?’ a guy with glasses asked thoughtfully.

‘I was worse than him,’ the other replied between his gritted teeth.

Viole jostled the soldiers to place himself in the middle of them, and the others followed him in a defying manner.

‘Don’t you dare do such a thing again or I’ll thrash you!’ he stated with irritation.

‘What the hell? You too wanna mess with us?’ one replied with annoyance.

‘We won’t handle a lecture from brats like you who were hiding in headquarters all the time we were at war!’

‘If you dare us you are gonna get your money’s worth.’

It is most likely that Miguel didn’t care about the incident with the children but sure that guy wanted to brawl, and to get his money’s worth. So he amicably slapped Viole on the back and displaying an affable smile, he said: ‘Come on body, you wouldn’t hit disabled people, right? Look, they have been so frightened during the war that they have pissed their pants…’

There were murmurs of anger, which stopped when a man who hadn’t spoken yet moved forward to face Miguel. He was stocky, had short blond hair and square face and nose. He had something very quiet in his expression that made him look older than the others but he was probably no more than twenty.

‘Well, guys,’ he said coolly, ‘since everybody here is willing to scuffle, there is no reason not to do so.’

While he was talking my comrades couldn’t help but notice the impression he made on the group. It was like he was able to avoid the fight or to trigger it by his words and tone alone.

‘Yes, but it will be a seven minutes fight,’ Guimel pointed absently, ‘Then it’s curfew.’

‘How can you know what time it is?’ We don’t have any clock…’

‘I have kept counting time since we left the quarters.’

‘Seriously? What are you exactly? A machine?’

‘Then we’ll be late. We can’t have a good fight in such a short time!’ Miguel stated firmly.

‘Really?’ Dalet smiled, ‘have you already forgotten what commandant Dilandau told you about discipline?’

‘Urgh…’ he sounded, obviously struggling inwardly, ‘Well, maybe we could postpone this fight?’ he articulated with difficulty, ‘what about tomorrow at six o’clock?’

‘That’s good for us. We don’t want rookies being reprimanded because of us,’ they replied without hiding there amusement and disdain.

‘Alright!’ Miguel replied, frustrated, ‘Dalet, if you want to throw your gauntlet, this is the right time.’

‘Don’t put it back on the table…’

‘Throw your gauntlet? What kind of weirdos are you?’ the blond guy looked a little bit destabilized.

‘The kind you will regret having met. Provided that you have the guts to show up tomorrow!’ Miguel of course retorted, drawing away.

‘Don’t worry,’ the scarred man answered, ‘and don’t think we’ll be softer with you just because you are kids. You’d better number your balls!’

Dalet grabbed Viole’s arm to prevent him from starting a stupid combat and dragged him away.

‘Dammit “number your balls”, that’s a good one! How comes I haven't found it first?’

‘Shut up Miguel!’

***

‘So you finally managed to get in troubles?’ I summed up when Dalet had finished recounting their outing, during breakfast.

‘Yeah and don’t even attempt to forbid us to go!’ Miguel threatened me insolently.

‘I won’t. As long as you don’t shorten your training.’

‘You don’t wanna come with us?’ Dalet asked, ‘it’s been quite a time we haven't brawled.’

‘Don’t try to make me believe you and Gatti are badass,’ Miguel scoffed, ‘you’re not credible.’

‘It would be certainly degrading to be involved in this,’ I answered Dalet, ‘but on the other hand I would enjoy having the opportunity to give Miguel a good hiding.’

The latter smiled boldly: ‘Yeah I have this effect on many people.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration -> https://www.deviantart.com/mick-aelle/art/GM14-801938827  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
